
Class _L_LX 
Book 



PRESE^^^ED bw 



A STUDY OF 
THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

WeITTEN by J. M., GENT, 1600 



BY 

JOHN HENRY HOBART LYON 



Submitted in Paetial Fulfillment of the Requirements 

FOE THE Degree of Doctor op Philosophy, in the 

Faculty of Philo^phy, Columbia University 



i^t9 fork 

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS 
1919 



COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN ENGLISH 
^ AND COMPARATIVE LITERATURE 




THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 



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A STUDY OF 
THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

WeITTEN by J. M., GENT, 1600 



BY 

JOHN HENRY HOBART LYON 



Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements 

FOR the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy, in the 

Faculty op Philosophy, Columbia University 



COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS 
1919 






f^>' 



i\^ 






Copyright, 1919 
BtJColumbia University Press 



Printed from type, December, 1919 



aift 



AP« !0 l$20 



Printed by The Plimpton Press, Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



IN MEMORIAM 

MY MOTHER 

AND 

MY FATHER 



This Monograph has been approved by the Department of 
English and Comparative Literature in Columbia University 
as a contribution to knowledge worthy of publication. 

A. H. THORNDIKE, 

Executive Officer 



PREFACE 

The World War must be held accountable for this study 
of a long, rambling Elizabethan manuscript. I had planned 
for some time to investigate the life and work, so full of 
problems, of John Marston, and in this way I had come to 
The Newe Metamorphosis which had been associated with 
the dramatist's name for over a century. The globe- 
embracing designs of Germany necessarily put a stop to 
further research concerning Marston, for communication 
with England was uncertain, and the British libraries did 
not welcome visitors during those anxious days of grim de- 
termination. Indeed, one felt it an impertinence to intrude 
on a stage set for so sombre a tragedy. But since the 
various books of The Newe Metamorphosis could be obtained 
at long intervals, it seemed that a study of this manuscript 
might prove of some value. Its many closely-written pages, 
indeed, might hold something of fresh interest concerning 
those "spacious days" of Shakspere. In this, I have been 
mistaken. My work, consequently, has resolved itself 
mainly into a consideration of authorship. 

I have tried to keep before me in the following pages the 
fact that a manuscript, not easily accessible, is of the chief 
concern to those interested in a limited study of this character. 
Quotations are given frequently and at length, and the final 
chapter is devoted to selections. In doing this I owe the 
author of The Newe Metamorphosis an apology, because he 
cannot be adequately judged by a few lines arbitrarily taken 
from his nearly one thousand pages. He is at his best as a 
very leisurely teller of stories. I hope at some time in the 



X PREFACE 

future to show this. I have felt there is no need of a bibli- 
ography, since the authorities to whom reference is made 
are few, and indebtedness to them has been acknowledged 
in the text. The spelling and scanty punctuation of the 
manuscript have been kept; there has been no effort made 
to duplicate the script, for many of the individual letters 
are formed differently from the modern practice. 

I appreciate that I owe thanks to many friends who have 
encouraged me in my work. I am especially indebted to 
Professor Clyde B. Cooper of Armour Institute who drew my 
attention to Marston, and to Professor John Matthews 
Manly, Professor Albert H. Tolman, and Professor Charles 
R. Baskerville of the University of Chicago, who strengthened 
me by their broad scholarship and friendly sympathy in a 
half-formed desire to pursue my studies. Professor George 
P. Krapp and Professor Harry M. Ayres, both of Columbia 
University, have been of much assistance to me; they have 
generously given valuable suggestions and constructive 
criticism. I am conscious of obligations to Professor Ashley 
H. Thorndike beyond my power to express. The inspira- 
tion of his scholarship and the stimulus of his keen mind 
have been gladly acknowledged by all those who have had 
the advantage of his direction. I feel, however, even more 
grateful to him because of the ready sympathy and fresh 
courage he gives to those who come to him looking for 
assistance. 

Columbia University, February, 1919. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 

The Manuscript 1 

The title-pages, 1 . — Importance of the manuscript, 1 . — Plan 
of chapters, 1. — Description of the manuscript, 2. — The 
autobiographical digressions, 3. — The date of the poem, 
5. — The arguments, 7. — Patrons of the work, 16. — The 
Prologue, 17. — The author's mistress, 18. — The versifica- 
tion, 19. — J.M.'s use of satire, 23. — The Newe Metamor- 
phosis essentially a collection of stories, 27. — Reflection of 
the popular taste, 28. — J. M. and Ovid, 28. — Use of fab- 
liaux, 35. — Debt to Chaucer and to fabliaux, 36. — Influ- 
ence of Spenser, 39. — Stories of various types, 40. — The 
authorities referred to, 41. — The plan of the work, 45. — The 
original frame, 46. — A frame within a frame, 51. — The in- 
vention or adaptation of new framework, 52. — A change 
in tone and plan in the last three books, 57. — Summary of 
J. M's plan of work, 60. — References to contemporaries, 
60. — Allusions to the stage, 63. — Conclusion, 64. 

CHAPTER II 

Critical History of the Manuscript 65 

The critical history of the manuscript, 65. — Francis Godolphin 
Waldron, 65. — Joseph Haslewood, 65. — The British 
Museum, 66. — Halliwell-Phillipps, 67. — The Reverend 
Alexander Grosart, 67. — A. H. Bullen, 68. — Miss Lucy 
Toulmin-Smith, 68. 

CHAPTER III 

J. M. GENT 70 

The author of The Newe Metamorphosis did not plan to conceal 
his identity, 70. — Autobiographical references, 72. — His 
service as a soldier in Spain, Ireland, and Flanders, 
72. — Strong religious convictions and sympathy for the so- 
called Puritans, 83. — Friendship for Essex, 87. — Familiarity 



xii CONTENTS 

with country life and sports, 88. — Intimate knowledge of 
trees and flowers, 94. — Marked tendency to explain the 
material uses of objects mentioned, 97. — Varied knowledge 
displayed whenever it, might add to the author's assumption 
of authority, 102. — Reference to Cambridge, 103. — Former 
literary work, 103. — Respect shown to parents, 103. — His 
home, 104. — His style, 105. — Conclusion, 105. 

CHAPTER IV 

The Author of The Newe Metamorphosis 107 

The conclusions arrived at in the preceding chapter an aid in 
identifying /. M. gent., 107. — The literary activity of the 
period, 107. — Assistance in this problem given by contem- 
poraries, 108. — The foiu- names mentioned by Waldron, 
108. — John Mason, 109. — James Martin, 109. — John 
Marston of importance in spite of Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith's 
assertion that he could not be the author, 110. — Value of 
Marston's work, 111. — The Newe Metamorphosis must show 
the faults and excellencies of Marston if it is his work, 

113. — Conclusions of Chapter III applied to Marston, 

114. — His right to term himself "gentleman," 114. — His 
name not French, 115. — No proof that be was a soldier, 

115. — Not a man of religious convictions or one who had 
sympathy for the Puritans, 117. — No love for country life 
or for country pursuits, 118. — Consideration of other evi- 
dence, 118. — The question of style, 119. — Conclusion, 120. 

CHAPTER V 

The Author of The Newe Metam,orphosis (Continued) . 

— Jervase M arkham 122 

Markham's ancestry, 122. — His birth, 124. — Francis Mark- 
ham, 124. — Jervase Markham's versatility, 125. — Per- 
sonality, 126. — Poetical works, 127. — Dramatic productions, 
129. — Industry and popularity, 129. — The conclusions 
of Chapter III, 130. — The initials J. M. and Markham, 
131. — The title "gent," 132. — His "Frenche" name, 133. 
— Markham, a soldier, 134. — Religious devotion, 137. — 
The intermingling of coarse jest and stern morality, 139. — 
Markham and Essex, 139. — Markham's knowledge of the 
country, 140. — Use of authorities, 141. — Reference to 



CONTENTS xiii 

Cambridge, 143. — Former work as a poet, 143. — Devotion 
to his father, 145. — His home, 146. — His style, 146. — The 
conclusions of Chapter IH point to Markham, 148. — The 
fact that both J. M. and Markham arraign plagiarism offers 
additional proof, 149. — Markham's autograph letter and 
the manuscript, 150. — Hatred of Spain, 151. — Arraign- 
ment of the Papacy and its followers, 152. — References to 
the drama, 153. — Lack of allusions to contemporaries, 153. 
— Reasons for not publishing the manuscript, 155. — Con- 
clusion, 158. 

CHAPTER VI 
Selections from The Newe Metamorphosis 159 

Index 219 



OUTLINE OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 
Volume I. Part I 
ADDITIONAL MANUSCRIPT 14,824 

Fos. 1-3. — The two title-pages and the arguments for the first 

six books of Vol. I.^ 
Fos. 4-4 verso. — Cupid and Momus contend for the honor of 

being patron to the poet. The quarrel is settled by Cupid 

becoming patron of the parts concerning love and pleasure; 

Momus of the satire.^ The author addresses his book. He 

dedicates it to the two gods. 
Fos. 5-6. — The Prologue.^ The author speaks of the nature of 

his work and asks the aid of gods and Matilda. 

BOOK I 

Fos. 7-9. — The gods seek adventure in Fayrie (England). At 
Mercury's suggestion lots are drawn for a king. Cupid is 
chosen and deposed by Mars and the other gods. Mercury is 
driven into exile to Rome because of his plan. Bacchus 
becomes king of the adventure, and Cupid is sent to Fayrie 
Land to announce the coming of the gods disguised as Egj^pt's 
king and his train. The inhabitants love the strangers. 
Saturn alone remains in Olympus. (EUzabeth, as Gloriana, 
is praised, fol. 8.) 

Fos. 9 verso-10. — Cupid inflames with love both mortals and 
gods. Jove woos Salya, who orders him to seek her as a 
baboon or monkey. Apollo takes by trickery Jove's place. 
Salya is changed to a monkey by the deceived lover. 

1 Cf. Chap. I, pp. 1 ff. 2 Cf. Chap. I, p. 16. 

3 Cf. Chap. VI, pp. 159 f. 



xvi OUTLINE OF 

Fos. 10-verso 11. — Bacchus gives a feast. He ravishes Clavia 
while she is intoxicated. (Digression on lust and drink.) 

Fos. 11-12. — Venus becomes angry at faithless Mars, She leaves 
the revel. She is caught in a fisherman's net and kept a 
prisoner. The gods seek her, and Bacchus becomes reconciled 
with Cupid and Mercury. (Satire on dissemblers, fos. 11 
verso-12.) 

Fos. 12-12 verso. — Cupid turns an evil nun to a smoking altar 
and her lover, a monk, to the fire on it. 

Fos. 12 verso-13 verso. — Mercury loves and betrays Sabella, 
who later becomes the mistress of Bacchus. 

Fos. 13 verso-15 verso. — Jove is angry at jealous Juno, Vulcan, 
and Mars. He woos Venus in the fisherman's cave in the 
guise of a sparrow. Mars discovers them. He changes the 
fisherman to a kingfisher. 

Fol. 15 verso. — Bacchus discovers Sabella had been loved first by 
Mercury. He changes her to a tamarisk tree and her husband, 
a sodomite, to an elder tree. 

BOOK II 

Fos. 16-19, — Jove sends for Mercury in order to discover erring 
mortals. Alarpha lived in Fayrie Land. She plots with her 
lovers to kill her father. Two lovers fight for her and are 
changed, one to a hound, the other to a mastiff. She becomes 
a hare. (Attack on love, fos. 17 verso ff.) 

Fos. 19-21 verso. — Jove goes to "Bernia Lande" (Ireland). He 
finds the kerns practicing all kinds of unnatural vice and 
their king Hving with a bitch by whom he has had a child. 
Jove sinks the king's city into an abyss, changes the child to a 
dog, and the inhabitants into wolves wliich can take man's 
shape. (Many incidental attacks on the savage state of 
Ireland.) 

Fos. 21 verso-27 verso. — Apollo, disguised, woos Clavia, who 
had been ruined by Bacchus. (Cf. Book I, fos, 10 verso ff.) 



THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS xvil 

She tells the god of a greedy shepherd, Vulpex, whose dowerless 
daughter, after having been seduced, had married a gull. 
Apollo woos her as a shepherd. To escape a mob, led by 
her mother, he carries her to Connaught by means of a flying 
horse. She gains Connaught by a trick of having the sun 
remain motionless and founds Galway. (Many references to 
Ireland, and digressions on vice, rash promises, etc.) 

BOOK III 

Fos. 28-29. — Jove is angered at Apollo, because he had kept his 
chariot in the sky for three dajj-s in order to allow Clavia to 
win a kingdom. This had prevented Jove from visiting at 
night his new love Helinore. 

Fos. 29-29 verso. — Mars and the other gods plot against the 
absent Jove; they resent the rule of Cupid, who sends Mercury 
to get assistance from Jove. 

Fos. 29 verso-36 verso. — Mercury, being requested, tells Jove 
and HeUnore two stories: one of MaUsco, who lusted for his 
own daughter and, after he polluted her, cut off her hands 
and pulled out her tongue (fos. 29 verso-33 verso); the 
second, of a maiden loved by Apollo, for whom he had changed 
her flocks into sheep with silver fleece. Their cliild, Chryses, 
married the son of Clavia from Connaught. They became 
the parents of Hero. Jove, angry at Apollo, sends a violent 
storm and drowns Chryses and her husband returning to 
Connaught. (Digressions concerning hypocrites and the 
birth of lust.) 

BOOK IV 

Fol. 37. — ^ Jupiter pays no attention to Cupid's peril; conse- 
quently, the love god, in defense, shoots his arrows at his 
enemies. 

Fos. 37-37 verso. — Mars, a \'ictim of Cupid, loves the nymph, 
Langia. After various metamorphoses, he wins her in the 
guise of a fish. 

Fos. 38-41 verso. — Bacchus, the next victim, meets an old bawd. 



xvm OUTLINE OF 

She tells him of Puten (tobacco), formerly loved by Mercury. 
(Digression on tobacco, fos. 39-40.) Bacchus turns her girls 
to spiders and the old bawd to a top which boys play with, 
(Digression on virtue and prostitutes, fos. 41-41 verso.) 

Fos. 42-43. — Bacchus loves Lyaeus. She refuses him. He 
turns her into the grapevine, sacred to him because of his love. 
(Digression on wine.) 

Fos. 43-47 verso. — Pluto is also inflamed with love by Cupid. 
Juno had discovered Jove's Helinore and turned her into a 
camel. Before this, she had been attacked by Vulcan. Pluto 
loved the paramour of the giant born of this attempted rape, 
and carried her to hell. The giant seeks aid from his father 
Vulcan, but because he steals a golden horseshoe, he loses 
his eyesight. He curses Vulcan and Venus, and is made 
sport of by hell. 

BOOK V 

Fos. 48-49. — The nine daughters of the Rhine challenge the 
Muses to a contest in song. An old man with a dishonest 
advocate is chosen as judge. (Digression on bribery and 
lawyers.) 

Fos. 49-54. — Three of the daughters of the Rhine tell of AmaUna, 
daughter of Venus and Vulcan's helper. She is loved by 
Neptune. He allows her to taste the pleasures of both sexes. 
Neptune later loves the nymph, Thames. He takes her to 
his palace — (digression in which the palace is described, 
fos. 50 verso ff.) — where she submits to Amahna, the man- 
maid. The latter is consigned to hell; the former becomes the 
river Thames, later wooed by a giant. Pons, who rapes her. 
He is turned to London Bridge. (Digression on the Thames, 
fol. 54.) 

Fos. 54-56 verso. — The fourth and fifth sisters tell of the Thames 
and of London. 

Fos. 56 verso-63 verso. — The remaining sisters speak of a feast 
given by the garden god. (Digression on flowers and herbs, 
fos. 57 verso ff.) His love, Clare, is killed by a boar and 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xix 

turned to a potato. The evil Capernus tries to rape the sleeping 
Ceres. He aims an arrow by mistake at Pan and is changed 
into a goat. 

BOOK VI 

Fos. 63-65 verso. — Melpomene, the first of the Muses to speak, 
tells of a fickle wanton, Taboretto. 

Fos. 66 verso-67 verso. — Clio speaks of the adventures of some 
pirates after peace was made with Spain, who were turned to 
sharks. 

Fos. 67 verso-69. — Euterpe tells of Sabina, who had entered a 
nurmery, but left it for the stews. She consulted a witch to 
procure a drug to kill her unborn child. (Digression on 
witches and prostitutes.) 

Fos. 69-71. — Thalia gives a history of inventions and of the 
progress of civifization. 

Fos. 71-73 verso. — Terpsichore relates how the merchant Pal- 
gradius is betrayed in his absence by his wife. On his return, 
he visits a marvelous palace; meets the devil as a negro 
succubus; and finally drives his wife to a fife of shame. 

Fos. 73 verso-76. — Erato relates how Paroquita first married 
for money, then for love. She becomes nurse to the child of 
a duchess. When old and common, she panders to evil appe- 
tites. She makes the wiie of the young ruler unfaithful by 
teUing her the duke is sexually defective. Lucina changes 
the bawd to a parrot which tells secrets of its mistresses. 
(Digressions on the influence of money, on midwives, on bawds, 
etc.) 

Fos. 76 verso-81 verso. — Polymnia teUs of witches coming 
from Ireland to Scotland; their attacks on James and the 
Puritans, and their league with the Romanists. 

Fos. 81-82. — Calliope speaks of the haughty daughter of a black- 
smith who refused Cupid, and, in consequence, was turned to 
a peacock. 

Fos. 82-83 verso. — Erania tells how the people in "Stroade in 
Kent" threw fish tails at Bacchus (he turned them to fish) 



XX OUTLINE OF 

and of those who eat fowl in Lent with the permission of the 
Pope. 
Fos. 83 verso-88 verso. — The judges take bribes from the 
daughters of the Rliine. Jove arraigns them, praises true 
law, and changes the advocate to a wolf, his helper to a gnat, 
and the maidens to mermaids. (Digression on bribery, 
injustice, greed, etc.) 



Volume I. Part II 
ADDITIONAL MANUSCRIPT U,825 

BOOK VII 

Fos. 1-1 verso. — The arguments are given for the six books of 
Part 11} 

Fos. 2-9 verso. — Cupid, because Saturn favors Mars, makes the 
old god love a child of eight. (Digression on age and youth.) 
Her mother, to be relieved of birth pangs, had promised 
Minerva to keep her daughter unmarried. The girl spurns 
Saturn's advances when he seeks to ravish her whilst in bathing. 
Minerva changes her to an ohve tree (fol. 3 verso), Eusham, 
the daughter of the river Avon, laughs at Saturn's disappoint- 
ment. He then rapes her. A child is born with one eye, to 
whom Saturn gives a pearl for the missing eye (fol. 4). One 
Eye, the son, marries Holland and has two sons, one Porcus, 
a miser, the other Costerus, consumed by jealousy. The 
former plots against his father, and by means of drink and 
drugs steals the eye of pearl. (Digression on drunkermess 
and undutiful sons.) He cannot sell the pearl, but in spite of 
his pleas, the king Mempricius seizes it (fol. 7). The son 
next turns farmer and then usurer. He leaves his ill-gotten 
wealth to churches and hospitals. (Digression on farming, 
ill-gotten wealth, etc.) 

Fos. 9 verso-16. — Mempricius, the king who had seized the 
1 Cf. Chap. I, pp. 8 ff. 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxi 

pearl, was lustful. He tempts the virtuous Matilda and 
banishes her husband. She tries to escape, but is seized, and 
her husband is slain. She resists the king and his bawd, and 
in order to save herself she jumps into a fire made to celebrate 
his birthday. Juno turns her to a salamander; the bawd to a 
cat, 

Fos. 16-18. — This king has as a mistress the youngest daughter 
of the bawd. She visits him by night and by mistake smears 
her face so that it is black. The king nearly slays her. She 
is turned to a tree; the king, full of lust, seeks the company 
of beasts, and is killed by wolves. 

Fos. 18-24 verso. — The author again speaks of Porcus, the miser 
son of One Eye; of a man of Brentwood who gelded himself 
to see if his wife were virtuous; and of a fat glutton who left 
his corpse to surgeons (fol. 19). A laborer tells of One Eye's 
second son, Costerus. He was consumed by jealousy. He 
forbids his wife to see any man. She deceives him with an 
old lover, disguised as a peddler (digression on the ease with 
which women deceive men); with the god Proteus, disguised 
as a lobster; with a Franciscan friar who visits her concealed 
in a trunk; and with Mercury who carries her to France and 
turns the husband to a milk-white bull in the forest of Calydon, 

Fos. 25-26. — Mercurj^ becomes by tliis liaison the father of two 
children. To show his divinity, he unwillingly gives the 
mother a staff for the son, May, wliich can transform one 
into whatever one desires. The mother is inadvertently 
changed into a quail. 

Fos. 26-27 verso. — May next transforms a fish thief into an otter 
and some painted ladies to glowworms. 

Fos. 27 verso-29 verso. — Anolfus at that time was emperor of 
Germany. (Digression on popes, drink, and alchemy.) 
Phrixius made him a drinking glass which would turn black 
if it contained poison. The goldsmiths, because of jealousy, 
summoned Ma3\ He changed Phrixius into an image. 

Fos. 29 verso-32. — May visits Britain, sees strange sights, 



xxu OUTLINE OF 

meets Merlin, and takes part in a cherry-stealing prank at 
Cambridge. 

Fos. 32 verso-35 verso. — May, returning to France, finds his 
sister a pelican, because she had betrayed the secret that a 
child of Apollo and a Lady Drant was of both sexes. He 
changes his sister to a mulberry tree, her children to silkworms. 
The gods are angry at his presumption. His father Mercury 
transforms him to the sacred sycamore. 

Fos. 35 verso-40. — The scene returns to the court of Anolfus. 
Jack GuUion and Ms family, because of their drunkenness 
and impiety, are metamorphosed by Bacchus. (Digression 
on drink.) Xadleus, a magician, and others who are in prison 
are punished for their crimes. (Attacks on swearing, dice, 
and evil women.) 

BOOK IX 

Fos. 40 verso-49. — Arabianus, king of a land near that of the 
pygmies, falls in love with the emperor of Germany's daughter, 
whose picture he has seen. They are married, and he is 
killed in a single combat with the warring king of Egypt. 
Before the combat he had received an enchanted ring. His 
wife leaps into his funeral pyre and becomes the Phoenix. 
(Description of funeral rites.) 

Fos. 49-53. — The author defends women, giving many examples 
of when they are virtuous. 

Fos. 53-56 verso. — A friend betrays the absent husband, who, 
on his return, kills him. The husband confesses the murder 
to his wife, who brings him to execution. The wife is turned 
to the salmon with red flesh, because she had caused her 
husband's death, her lover to the pike, and her husband to the 
porpoise, both of which pursue her. 

BOOK X 

Fos. 57-59 verso. — Apollo, meeting the exiled Mercury, is aston- 
ished at his poverty. Apollo speaks of the golden age; Mer- 
cury repUes with a description of the terrible vice now 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxiii 

prevalent throughout the world. Apollo inquires concerning 

Italy. 
Fos. 59 verso-76 verso. — Mercury tells of the wickedness of 

the popes and of the Roman Cathohc Church. (Detailed 

attack on the Papacy.) 
Fos. 76 verso-77. — Mercury speaks of two beautiful royal 

nyniphs, Canta and Calina. He loves the former. 
Fos. 77-90. — To pass the time, he next describes a gull who 

misused words and aped fine manners. Mercury, as a poor 

scholar, served the gull. He tells of some merry men, with 

shrewish wives, who were punished by Vulcan because they 

sang of Venus' deception. (Digressions on lack of learning 

and faults of women.) 
Fos. 90-91. — Apollo and Mercury woo and win the fair Canta 

and Galena, from whom all poets are sprung. (A list of 

Enghsh poets.) 
Fos. 91-91 verso. — The Pope is the prince of poets because of his 

marvelous inventions. (Further arraignment of the Church 

of Rome.) 

BOOK XI 

Fos. 92-93. — The author praises friendship. He gives a list of 
faitMul friends. He cautions the reader against trusting too 
hastily, 

Fos. 93-101. — OrgagUo and Rodrigo were friends for seven years. 
They married sisters. The latter had a daughter; the former, 
childless, spent his fortune. In Rodrigo's absence, Orgagho 
plots against him and betrays his wife. Rodrigo and his 
wife both die of grief. Orgaglio seizes their property, abuses 
their child — (digressions on evil executors) — and finally 
becomes a powerful justice. Cupid, because Jove had not 
aided him when he was attacked by Mars and his confederates, 
inspires Jove with love for the abused daughter. To win her, 
Jove seeks employment from Orgaglio, and after being abused 
and cheated, transforms him to a serpent. (Digression on 
the landscape of the vicinity.) 



XXIV OUTLINE OF 

Fos. 101-108 verso. — Cupid has no power over Juno. She seeks 
her husband, after putting on her bridal robes, in various 
places. (Digression describing Corycus' cave.) She finds 
Jupiter, and after recriminations they become reconciled. 

BOOK XII 

Fos. 109-112 verso. — Venus upbraids Cupid, because he has 
driven the gods from Olympus. She tells him women love a 
bold wooer. He twits her- for her faithlessness, but brings 
Mars back to his mother. 

Fos. 112 verso-114. — Jove is still angry at Mars because of 
his rebellion. He shoots his thunderbolt. War takes place; 
many mortals are killed, and heaven bursts in flames; hence 
our dog days. Jove calls a parliament and a star chamber, 
Cupid is banished for twelve years. Gloriana (Elizabeth) is 
to be made a goddess after death. The son of Roderiga and 
Jove, killed in the battle, is transformed into a nectarine. 

Fos. 114-116 verso. — Heaven is at peace, but famine and misery 
depopulate the earth. MerUn is consulted by a gentleman 
of note by means of a page. This page, by disguise, seeks to 
trick Merlin. He suffers both deaths prophesied. Merlin 
tells of Albion's princes, of the first Stuart, of the death of 
Prince Henry, and of the Princess Elizabeth's marriage. 

Fos. 116 verso-123. — Mars and many allies were wounded in 
the war of the gods. Venus, revengeful, looks for her child 
Amalcius in hell,^ the entrance of which is in Italy. Venus 
sees the first negro in company with the popes and Pluto. 
She gives the popes a three days' jubilee, at which Rome 
rejoices. Amalcius, to disguise himself, becomes a monk. 
He invents powder and guns. He loved a succubus of Lucifer. 
(Attacks on Roman Cathohcism.) The Pope, aided by the 
Jesuits, stirs up the Spanish king to attack England. Pope 
Joan has an incubus, and their child is Guy Fawkes. The 
author attacks Spain and the papists. 

1 His story is told in Book V. He is the man-maid who ruined 
Thames. 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS XXV 

Fos. 123-136 verso. — The story of the Armada, its preparations 
and expectations, is told. The fleet is shattered by a storm. 
The English fleet is described, and Drake is praised. The 
English strategy is explained, and a description is given of the 
army at Tilbury. (Leicester is attacked.) The defeat of the 
Armada is described. Pluto refuses to let the Spaniards 
come to hell for fear they might rape Proserpina. Jove turns 
them to cod and herrings wliich Spaniards still seek. The 
loss of Spain is pictured, and the queen is praised. (Captain 
Cox is referred to.) 

Fol. 136 verso. — The praise of the queen is interrupted by news 
of her death. 

Volume II 
ADDITIONAL MANUSCRIPT 14,826 

BOOK I 

Fos. 2 verso-5 verso. — Jove mourns for Cupid, who has come to 
"FajTie Eande" (England). The author describes England 
— ("Speede" is mentioned) — its riches, women, landscape, 
etc. He praises Gloriana (EUzabeth) and James. (Attacks 
on the parasite.) 

Fos. 5 verso-8. — Cupid tries to be a shepherd. Because of 
his cruel treatment, he causes the death by drowning of his 
landlord's son and the girl he loved. They are changed to 
carps. The father, before his owai death, eats his son. 
(Digression on carps.) 

Fos. 8-9 verso. — Cupid next comes to a stream in which lads are 
in swimming. They attack him. He turns them into ducks, 
"Morecocks," and " stansticks." (Digression on fishing.) 

Fos. 9 verso-12. — He next serves a pander, Paterno, who lives 
by liis wife's shame. (Digression on fashions, vice, etc.) 

Fos. 12-21. — Juno, aided by Occasio, still hates Cupid. The 
poet passes over many of the god's adventures. Cupid serves 



xxvi OUTLINE OF 

Plancus, a soldier, who loves Zidia. Plancus despairs of 
success. He turns poet and sends his page UmbrelUa, who 
because she loved him had followed him disguised, to sing to 
his lady. Zidia loves the disguised page. She finally marries 
Plancus, who discovers the identity of his page and now woos 
her faded to a shadow. His wife and her lover plan to kill 
him. Cupid changes Plancus to an eagle, the wife to a tortoise, 
and the lover to a crane. Both the crane and the eagle hate 
the tortoise. (Digression concerning the death of Aeschylus, 
killed by an eagle dropping a tortoise on his head, tliinking 
it was a rock, fol. 21.) 

BOOK II 

Fos. 21-25. — Two children, Dulcimel and Amoretta, are born in 
Arcadia. Their early life and love are described. Amoretta 
has another wooer from Fayrie, who tries in vain to win her 
by gifts and poems. She marries Dulcimel, but they are 
childless. 

Fos. 25-26 verso. — Dulcimel finds a weeping child (Cupid), 
whom he adopts and calls Eros. His kiss inflames his foster 
parents, to whom later a daughter is born. Cupid also gives 
them prosperity. (Digression on absurd fashions.) 

Fos. 26 verso-31 verso. — The king sends Dulcimel to the 
Turks. On liis return, he frees an old knight from some 
ruffians, and is wooed by his evil wife. Diana turns her to a 
wanton "wagtail" (fol. 29 verso). In his absence, the king 
and Mars, the latter in various disguises, try to deceive Amo- 
retta. Cupid helps her to resist until her husband returns. 

Fos. 31 verso-36. — Mars remains at their reunion feast. Dul- 
cimel tells of his adventures. He speaks of the career of the 
English pirate Ward, an unbeliever. Mars tells of Elizabeth 
and of the Romanist plots against her, especially those in 
Ireland. 

Fos. 36-37 verso. — Mars blesses the virtuous couple. Eros weds 
their daughter. 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxvii 

BOOK III 

Fos. 38-46. — Jove, in order to restore Cupid to heaven, tells him 
to shoot only cold, blunt arrows; the result is that birth and 
marriages cease. (Digression on the pranks of Cupid.) The 
gods hold a council. They ask Jove to punish Cupid. He 
refuses and attacks them for their former plots. (Digression 
on the power of kings.) He finally recalls Cupid, and the 
world prospers. Cupid's new love, Melamorretta, is made 
queen of pure love; Venus of dalliance. 

Fos. 46-50. — Mars is still angry at Cupid. He woos an evil 
nun Adiana (attacks on Roman CathoUcism) and fights with 
a groom, her lover. The latter, hit by a stone, becomes the 
source of a river. Adiana had been first wooed by Vulcan. 
Venus turns her to the myrtle. 

Fos. 51 verso-57. — The author continues his attacks on the 
" Cloystred-mates " by telling of the Abbot Bolton who, to 
escape a flood, built a tower to wliich he retired with provisions 
and "sacred" books. (Attacks on superstition and the 
Papacy.) A search for a miller and his mistress, hiding in a 
cave, causes the abbot to think the flood has come. (Digres- 
sion on age marrying youth.) He cuts the ropes of the boat 
he had placed on top of the tower and is killed by the fall. 

BOOK IV 

Fos. 57 verso-64. — The author again speaks of the Thames. 
He tells of Neptune's love for her. They have a daughter 
Amwell who can change her form, and in this way she avoids 
wooers. (Digression on cowards.) Rodon, son of Proteus 
and a nun, is advised by his father to seize Amwell and hold 
her with no fear of her transformations. He wins her, and 
their child Beely weds the stream "Bardfeildian." Their 
elder son weds Molyno. After his death, she gives herself 
to his brother. Neptune takes revenge on their secret love. 

Fos. 64 verso-65 verso. — A friend of the author tells him of 
how he was captured by the Spaniards; had served in a galley; 



xxviu OUTLINE OF 

was seized by the Turks and was taken to Egypt whence he 
escaped. He agrees to tell of what he has seen. 
Fos. 65 verso-72. — This friend tells three stories. He relates 
how an artisan marries the base daughter of the king. Be- 
cause of his wealth and a marvelous garden, he becomes proud. 
Apollo punishes him. The second story gives the reward of a 
poor but generous man who receives the disguised Apollo 
with true hospitality. The third gives the history of a mush- 
room squire who cuts down a grove sacred to Diana in order 
to gratify his whims. (Digressions on trees, upstarts, spend- 
thrifts, etc.) 

Fol. 72. — Another friend promises to tell some stories. 

BOOK V 

Fos. 72 verso-73 verso. — Tlais visitor says that at childbirth 
one finds the most gossip. He introduces a midwife and her 
friends. 

Fos. 73 verso-76 verso. — The midwife tells of Lunghe, a black- 
smith, who robs an orchard and marries an old woman for 
money. (Digression on foohsh widows.) Lunghe marries 
again. He keeps his grain from the starving poor until he is 
ruined by grain brought from Denmark. He poisons himself 
and is turned by Ceres into a rat. (Digression on suicide.) 

Fos. 76 verso-77. — All the women present agree to tell a story. 

Fos. 77-78. — Winifred relates how she was ravished by a gallant 
gentleman in satin. The midwife likes the story and calls on 
Demure, a chaste matron, for the next. 

Fos. 78 verso-80. — Another interrupts with a tale of how she 
was ravished on the way to a wedding. Her husband, a 
fiddler, was forced to play whilst she was assaulted. (Digres- 
sion on cuckolds.) 

Fos. 80-81 verso. — Demure tells of virtuous Piscator, drowned 
whilst fishing. His wife sees his hat on the water and dives 
for it. Cupid turns them to "Dop-cHcks." 

Fos. 81 verso-82 verso. — "The Lady in Bed" affirms the truth 



THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS xxix 

of tliis story. She tells of a lover, Pulex, who prayed to be 
her necklace, etc. He finally wants to be the flea on her dog, 
in order to have its freedom. He becomes the flea, and is 
yet found as a compaiuion of women. 

Fos. 82 verso-84 verso. — The next tells of Leda coming to 
Germany with her twins. Because a woman called her vile 
names for bearing twins, Jove makes the offender bring forth 
three hundred and sixty-five cluldren at one birth. Her tomb 
and that of her children can be seen near The Hague in the 
neighborhood of the Enghsh camps. 

Fos. 84 verso-87. — The women wish to go to the army camps. 
The hostess persuades them to stay with her all night. 

Fos. 87-94 verso. — One tells of the marriage of Venus and Vulcan. 
Venus, in order to deceive Mars, sends her husband for the 
"Box of her Maidenhead." Vulcan, against her orders, opens 
it and a butterfly escapes. Venus declares her treasure is 
lost. Venus turns the prattUng wives to butterflies. 

BOOK VI 

Fos. 95-96. — The author has "Colhck." He visits the various 
springs to be cured. He hkes Malvern. 

Fos. 96-98 verso. — He tells of the irreverent people near tliis 
place. He attacks the ignorant clergy, and speaks of one 
who mispronounces many words. (Digression on illiterate 
clergy.) 

Fos. 98-101 verso. — He speaks of an old hag near Malvern who 
pretends to cure wath one remedy. (Attacks on quack doc- 
tors.) He next tells of a maiden who was recompensed by 
her betrayer by a pretended remedy for all diseases. Later 
she becomes famous and is sought by the same man in order 
to remove a fishbone lodged in his throat. Aesculapius turns 
them both to horse-leeches. 

Fos. 101 verso-107. — The author leaves Malvern. He meets 
a man who has a charm to snare rabbits. He next tells of a 
mother with an ungrateful son, and an anecdote of a rich 



XXX OUTLINE OF 

man with four foolish sons. (Digression on filial love.) He 
relates how a father gave all his property to his ungrateful 
eldest son. 

Fos. 107-110 verso. — The author returns home. His friend 
Russius has lost his wife and sought her in all army camps and 
evil resorts. Russius, hungry and poor, breaks the branch 
of a tree, only to hear the voice of his wife. She tells him of 
her evil life and of her change to the "medler" tree because 
she was a gossip. The author wonders that Russius should 
tell his story. (Digression on false friends.) 

BOOK VII 

Fos. 111-114. — The author turns for material to France. He 
teUs how a French gallant and liis mistress kill the faithful 
wife who was childless and had prayed to Favonius to make 
her pregnant. Her prayers had been overheard, and she had 
been suspected of having a lover. (Digression on the abuse 
of love and of wine.) 

Fos. 114-118 verso. — A friend craves death because of unrequited 
love. The author tells him three tales, exemplifying abuses: 
First, of how an evil man tried to rape a girl in church and 
was turned to a baboon; second, of two fighters who follow a 
prostitute to a tavern — both are killed in a duel which follows; 
third, of Swynburnus, the gambler, who kills himself when 
fortune proves fickle. (Digression on gambling.) 

Fos. 118 verso-123 verso. — He next tells his companion of the 
Cadiz expedition, of the number of the ships, the sacking of 
the town, the ransom, the burning of the Spanish ships, of the 
destruction of Faro, etc. A dove gives a good omen for the 
return voyage. Medina praises the Enghsh. 

Fos. 123 verso-127 verso. — Mendoza, a youth of Cadiz, wishes 
to marry. His mother objects. (Attacks on women.) He is 
killed by the English. The mother curses everything con- 
cerned in his death. She tells of the sufferings of a woman 
in bearing and bringing up a son. 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxxi 

BOOK VIII 

Fos. 128-129. — The author speaks again of Cadiz, Faro, and 
Lotha. 

Fos. 129-131. — The Shipmaster proposes that his companions 
tell stories. A prize is offered, and the first lot is drawn by 
the parson. (Digression on schools.) 

Fos. 131-133. — The Master tells of Parson Darcie, who got his 
dinner and wine for nothing, and who was finally hung. The 
Chaplain resents this story. 

Fos. 133-138. — The Chaplain speaks seriously of plots, "divine 
and profane," and of plantations in Virginia and Ireland. 
He praises the king. The Master calls him a Puritan, and 
the Captain settles the quarrel. 

Fos. 138-140 verso. — The Surgeon speaks next. His remark 
that all women are bad stirs up resentment. The company 
takes sides. The Surgeon tells of a gull with his hair dressed 
in horns (attack on fashions) who returns home to find his 
wife with a lover. He is paid for the injury to his honor 
with his own money. 

Fos. 140 verso-145 verso. — The Captain speaks of a virtuous 
wife who spurns Sansfer, a treacherous friend who lives on 
her husband's bounty. He tempts her with lines from 
Orlando Furioso, with a marvelous pictured casket, and with 
letters. She tells her husband. Sansfer confesses his love, 
and is tossed in a blanket. He becomes a buzzard. 

Fos. 145 verso-146 verso. — The Boatswain tells of Dorothea, 
who cruelly drove his brother to commit suicide. Venus 
turned him to a mistletoe and the girl to a cucumber, which, 
ripe, shoots out its seeds when touched. Venus also punishes 
Dorothea's brother and sister who attack her. 

Fos. 147-150 verso. — The Gunner's Mate relates how a nobleman 
plans to marry his eldest son Alphonsus to his neighbor's 
daughter. The son secretly ruins the girl, and then he travels 
until they are old enough to marry. He is lost and is made a 
galley slave by the Spaniards. He escapes and returns home 



xxxu OUTLINE OF 

in time for the wedding of his younger brother to his betrothed. 
She recognizes him by a ring. The Pope gives her to the 
elder brother; her lands to the younger. Alphonsus dies, and 
the Pope gives the girl to his brother. Because of their lust, 
they are changed to parsnips. (Attacks on Spain and the 
Pope.) 

BOOK IX 

Fos. 151-152. — The author praises women, and gives Elizabeth 
as an example to all. (Satire on the Welsh.) 

Fos. 152-156. — A "Voluntarie Gent" tells how a merchant is 
forced to leave his wife of three years. She pretends grief. 
Corncaput, in order to escape the watch, takes refuge in her 
house which he finds open. The maid leads him to the bed of 
her mistress who was waiting for her lover. She does not 
discover her mistake because of the darkness. The next day 
she tries to have him arrested when he comes to her shop. 
He shows her a ring she had given to him and becomes her 
lover. 

Fos. 156-161 verso. — A "Young Gent," who came to Cadiz 
because of love, relates how a captain scorned Cupid. Cupid 
makes him love a friend's wife whom he woos in vain. He 
goes to the Spanish Main in search of gold. (Drake is referred 
to.) He returns to find his love in her coffin. He visits the 
tomb at night and finds her alive. She remains wdth him. The 
husband finally discovers the treachery. 

Fos. 162-166 verso. — The Steward makes sport of women. 
He jests about the Captain's conduct at Cadiz. He teUs of a 
wanton wife who publicly shamed her husband. The Master 
declares this story is worse than those of Italy. The Steward 
rephes with another indecent anecdote. 

Fos, 166 verso-168 verso. — The Gunner tells of a youth who 
finds that his love, Ifis sister, and his mother are all wanton. 

Fos. 169-171. — The Master-Mate tells of the lust of Messahna. 

Fos. 171-173. — The Cook relates how Nostam, who had skill in 
astronomy and medicine, betrayed a young wife in her hus- 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxxiii 

band's absence by pretending her unborn child was not per- 
fectly formed. His own wife later discovered he was diseased. 
He was turned to the Orchis. 

Fos. 173-177. — The "Apprentice" of London, who had run away 
from his master, tells of some merchants and their wives at 
the White Harte Inn at St. Albans. They made a wager in 
which the largest bed in England plays a part. Three lovers 
of their wives, who had followed them, deceived the merchants 
whilst drunk. The narrator demands the prize for the best 
story. 

Fos. 177-181 verso. — The Master urges the bashful "Drum" 
to continue the contest. He speaks of a clever doctor who 
wins a rich widow by pretending he is successful in his pro- 
fession. She first tries him in various ways. Her maid 
betrays her. After marriage she becomes haughty. (Digres- 
sions on false pride, quacks, and fashions.) The wife is 
poisoned by mistake by a drug intended for a rich baron who 
plotted to murder his wife. The baron is given the poison 
when ill by his unsuspecting wife. 

Fos. 181 verso-183. — The "Clarke of the Bande" affirms that 
men tempt women and then blame them if they listen. He 
tells of the son of Gaffer Huh-huh who made pretense to 
fashion. (Digression on flattery and evil times.) He takes 
his falcon to church, and is punished by Diana. 

Fos. 183-185. — The Purser states he knows many stories. He 
intended first to tell of a youth married to a witch, who could 
make orchards bear in winter, etc. She makes the youth's 
father young. They deceive and kill the husband. The 
Purser then tells of an untruthful prentice (digression on 
lying, evil parents, courtiers, etc.) — who becomes a courtier. 

Fos. 185-188. — The Trumpet tells of the daughter of the nun 
Adiana and Mars.^ Proteus takes her to America. Neptune 
wins her from Proteus and removes her to Trinidad. (Descrip- 
tion of Trinidad.) Proteus, in revenge, by means of an 

1 Cf. Vol. II, fos. 46 flf. 



xxxiv OUTLINE OF 

oyster kills her while she is bathing. Neptune takes vengeance 
on the oyster. 

Fos. 188-190 verso. — The Lieutenant first speaks of his youth 
and education. He teUs of a lawyer who, when he became 
judge, decided a case against his former decision. (Attacks 
on lawyers.) 

Fos. 190 verso-192 verso. — The Ancient tells of a duke's 
daughter stolen by a pope. She is rescued by a forester. 
She marries and bears a child who is smothered by its nurse. 
(Attacks careless mothers.) The nurse substitutes her child. 
The duke discovers his daughter by a birthmark on her breast. 
The nurse is put to death by her son when she tells him of her 
deceit. 

Fos. 192 verso-194. — Land is sighted. The Master becomes 
the judge and gives the prize to the Cook. The Gunner 
laments the lack of time for his tale. 



BOOK X 

Fos. 194 verso-195. — The author lays aside his "sportfuU 
Muse." 

Fos. 194-198 verso. — He speaks of the Romanist plots against 
Elizabeth. (Praises of Ehzabeth and James.) He tells of 
the Bye Plot. 

Fos. 198 verso-207. — The history of the Gunpowder Plot is 
given in detail. 

Fos. 207-221. — The author tells of the fate of Fawkes and Garnet. 
A witch takes him to hell. (Digression on those in hell.) 
She tells him of the first pope and of Ecclesia Romana. He 
returns to earth. 

Fos. 221-233 verso. — He continues his attacks on the Roman 
Catholics, especially on the Jesuits. He closes by stating he 
has written this book against the "CathoUque Church." 



THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS xxxv 

BOOK XI 

Fos. 234-236. — The author tells of the drinking at Stratford-bowe 
during the "Greene-goose-fayre." The %'isitors all become 
drunk. (Attacks excess in drinking.) Bacchus comes to 
prevent the riot and fighting. (Digression on the friendships 
of drunkards.) 

Fos. 236-240 verso. — The author blames the justices for the 
taverns. They accept presents from the innkeepers and 
refuse to prosecute them for their lawlessness and the evils 
caused by drinking. All classes are now addicted to drinking. 
The custom of drinking healths is arraigned. Bacchus is 
angered at the drunkenness at the fair. He changes the crowd 
to geese; hence the name of the fair. 

Fos. 240-246. — The author declares gluttony is the younger 
brother of drink. It is found in all classes and kills more 
than war. He tells of a young friar who ruins himself by 
giving a feast for his abbot. A neighbor, Brawl, who loves 
lawsuits and speaks in dialect, is one of the guests. The 
bankrupt friar becomes demented. (Digression on melan- 
choly.) 

Fos. 246-249, — The author speaks of envy and maUce which 
attack one's good name, even that of the king. They are 
nourished by peace. The poet tells of a youth convicted for 
the lust of another. He liimself has been slandered. (The 
Roman CathoUc Church is attacked.) 

BOOK XII 

Fos. 249 verso-252. — The author, commencing with Adam, 

gives a list of British kings. 
Fos. 252-256. — He laments the death of Prince Henry and lauds 

James. (Attack on the Roman Catholic Church.) 
Fos. 254-255 verso. — He speaks of the marriage of the Princess 

EUza and the attending festivities. He praises Ehza and her 

consort. He praj^s for the overthrow of Spain, Austria, and 

the Papacy. 



xxxvi OUTLINE OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 

Fos. 256-267. — The author tells of some of those who attended 
the wedding: a Captain Swan who disliked "Pigge" (digres- 
sion on fashions and tastes) ; a Monsieur Roe (fol. 257 verso) 
who sacrificed his timber to procure fine clothes; a fine lady 
who ruined her husband for buckles for her shoes (fol. 257, 
verso) ; a gull in fine clothes (fol. 258) ; and a pretended lady 
of fashion in a coach. (Digression on the golden mean, fol. 
258 verso.) The author next tells of a miserly usurer who 
from the one gown of his dead Avife wishes his tailor to make 
him many things (fol. 259 verso), and of a silk merchant who 
seeks to collect a debt from a tailor (fol. 260 ff.) whose wife 
betrayed him in the tailor's Hell.^ (Digressions on tailors, 
duns, fashions, etc.) The author then relates how Sir Had- 
land's 2 son, a prodigal, seeks a livelihood. (Digressions on 
heraldry, flattery, the caprice of masters, and the nouveaux 
riches.) 

Fos. 267-268. — The author tells what vices he has attacked in 
his work. 

^ The space beneath the tailor's work bench. 
2 Cf. Vol. II, Book IV. 



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The Fikst Title Page 
Photographs taken from a rotagraph copy of the manuscript. 



THE NEWE METAM0EPH0SI8 



CHAPTER I 
THE MANUSCRIPT 

The manuscript of The Newe Metamorphosis, which has 
been in the possession of the British Museum since 1844/ 
has attracted only cursory attention,^ although it has been 
mentioned and quoted several times since the early part of 
the nineteenth century by men interested in the Elizabethan 
period of English literature.' The great length of the manu- 
script, together with the fact that it was written during the 
years of the culmination of Shakspere's work and contains 
many allusions to contemporary manners and history, 
makes this apparent neglect surprising. It is worthy of 
consideration and a somewhat detailed description. 

In addition, the identity of J. M. gent, offers an interesting 
problem. In spite of several conjectures, no serious effort 
has been made to determine this question, and, as a result, 
the authorship of The Newe Metamorphosis, which Haslewood 
nearly a century ago dogmatically assigned to John Marston, 
is still in doubt.^ 

In this chapter I shall discuss briefly both the type of 
work found in The Newe Metamorphosis and the plan of 

' In Vol. I, p. 1, on the flyleaf is written "purchased of Payne & 
Foss, 1844 (3 vols.)." 

^ Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith in the Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. II, 
pp. 480-488, has given a very slight outline of the MS. 

3 Cf. Chap. II. 

* Cf. Chap. II. 

1 



2 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the poem; in the ensuing chapters I shall consider the 
problem of the identity of J. M. 

The Newe Metamorphosis, to call the poem by its first 
title, is contained in three volumes quarto, in the contem- 
porary vellum binding, in the Additional Manuscripts of 
the British Museum 14,824, 14,825, and 14,826, respectively. 
The text, and indeed the whole manuscript, is in a remark- 
ably good state of preservation. Where there is difficulty 
in deciphering a word it comes from the formation of the 
letters, corrections, blotted words, or lack of revision, and 
not because of fading ink or mutilated pages. The first 
volume has approximately eighty-eight leaves, the second, 
one hundred and thirty-six, and the third, two hundred and 
sixty-eight.^ The author has numbered the manuscript 
by the page in the upper left-hand corner; the Museum 
authorities have numbered the poem in pencil by leaf, 
recto and verso. Neither method in this case is satisfactory. 
The author, because of frequent additions, has added over 
a hundred pages which he has inserted; the British Museum 
authorities, numbering by leaf, at times have not read the 
manuscript with necessary care and, in consequence, these 
insertions cause confusion. The author himself, almost 
invariably by a word in the generous margin, by a dotted 
line, or even by a hand drawn in ink,^ has made the sequence 
of the poem clear. 

The poem is written in a close, clear hand with remarkably 
few corrections considering its great length. As a rule 
there is an ample margin, and frequently in this there are 

' There are frequently pages inserted. These insertions may be 
one page or even extend to many. In Book II there are twenty-seven 
pages numbered 281 and sixteen numbered 361. The total number 
of pages is nine hundred and eighty-four. There are, as a rule, thirty 
to forty lines on each page. 

2 Cf. Vol. II, fol. 212. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 3 

many additional lines. It is of interest to note that the 
author has two distinct hands. The ItaUan hand he uses 
for personal names, for titles, for words and verses to which 
he wishes to lend importance, and for the homely proverbs 
for which he shows a market penchant; the other hand, 
in which we find the great bulk of the manuscript, is more 
difficult to decipher. It resembles in the formation of the 
letters manuscripts of the last decade of the sixteenth 
century.^ The poem has two title-pages, separated by the 
arguments for the first six books.- There are two volumes,^ 
each containing twelve books. One can see from the title- 
pages that the author's original plan was a poem of twelve 
books only. Undoubtedly pleasure in the work and an 
unrestrained loquaciousness, characteristic of many of his 
contemporaries, led him to continue his Iliad of legends to 
its present rambling length. "Tomus Primus," which we 
also find crossed out on both title-pages, evidently should 
have remained. 

The first title-page tells us that the poem was written 
by J. M. gent. 1600. The second title-page also repeats 
this date. A little later,"* written below the "Epistle dedi- 
catorie" to Momus and Cupid and having no connection 
with the poem itself, the author writes: 

My name is Frenche, to tell yoi^ in a worde 

Yet came not in w^^ Conqueringe Williams sworde.^ 

Indeed, in many parts of his work J . M. becomes auto- 
biographical. He speaks of his home;® of the woman 

1 There are numerous notes in pencil in the margin of the manu- 
script made by Francis Godolphin Waldron. Cf. Chap. II. 
^ The second title-page is on foho 3 recto. 
» Vol. I, Add. MSS. 14,824 and 14,825; Vol. II, 14,826. 
^ Fol. 4 verso. 

^ The question of authorship is discussed in Chaps. Ill, IV, and V. 
6 Vol. II, Book VII, fol. 115. 



4 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

whom he loves/ whose aid he craves in this labor, and 
who has inspired him; of his travels in Ireland,^ Flanders,' 
and Spain;* of his admiration for several of his contem- 
poraries; ^ and in a most intimate vein how he challenged 
a certain gull, a "Concealers son," to a duel, and the cow- 
ardly behavior of his antagonist. This last instance is 
such an excellent example of his digressive method that it 
deserves to be quoted. 

The poet has just been telling a story of a craven coun- 
cilor's son who hanged himself — "a coward ende" — and 
was turned into the shape of the timid squirrel.^ Con- 
tinuing, he writes:' 

Whether 't's a gifte peculiar yea or noe 

unto Concealers sonnes, I doe not knowe 

to be ranks Cowards, yet a great Clarks sonne 

that did not far from me once make his wonne ^ 

having much wrong'd me in my reputation 

and usd me in a base & scurvy fashion 

I cal'd him to account & did him blame 

for that he had traduced my good name 

I told him of it, in his raffe & pride 

my gaudy Gull, he stifiy it deny'de 

I told him I would w*^ my sword maintaine 

the truth of what I charg'd him w**^ againe 

I threwe him downe my Glove & bad him take it 

that he had wrong'd me, good on him I'de make — it 

1 Vol. I, Prologue, fol. 6, and in many other places. 

* Vol. I, Part I, fos. 21 verso ff. 
3 Vol. II, fos. 84 verso ff. 

* Vol. II, fos. 119 ff. 

* An example of this is Vol. II, fol. 1. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 59. 

7 Vol. II, fos. 59 ff. 

' Home. Cf. Spenser, The Faerie Queene, Book I, Canto VI, Stanza 
xxxix. 



JnJluJi of-^/diUrmrf^^, 







The Second Title Page 



THE MANUSCRIPT 5 

I nam'd the Tyme & Plaic for he was slacke 
and I his Glove from him received backe 
that he would answer me. This 'Chequer-man 
home to his Mumma presently then ran 
& crjang told her he must fight the feild 
where he much feared that he should be kild. 
He was indeed a base, white-livired-slave 
a foole, an Asse & a caluminous Knave. 

The place appointed it was Callis sande 

his sworde & horse he sold both out of hande. 

And the indignant poet heaps his scorn upon his cowardly 
traducer. He then continues the story of love which he 
had interrupted. 

Both the title-pages give the date of the poem as 1600. 
It was undoubtedly commenced in that year and returned 
to at intervals until about 1615. Because the last book 
of the second volume mentioned the death of the Stuart 
heir, the lamented Prince Henry, and the marriage of the 
Princess EHzabeth,^ the poem has been assigned to the 
years 1600-1613.^ But even in the first volume we have 
mention of the death of Henry .^ J. M. writes: 

But H. untimely in his prime of yeares 
must thence dep(ar)te, & passe through funerall fyres 
iust at that tyme when greatest ioye's intended 
at bright Es nuptials, w"*^ all mirth portended 
then C. that Noble Prince shall nexte succeede 
for soe th' imortal powers have decreede 
that most illustrious Prince, Carl-Maximus 
the ioye, the life, the very soule of us. 

^ Henry died Nov. 6, 1612; Elizabeth married the Elector Palatine, 
Feb. 14, 1612-13. 

2 Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith, Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. II, 
p. 483. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 116. 



6 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

In this same book we are told of the defeat of the Spanish 
Armada and the tidings of the death of EHzabeth — a 
variety of subjects, truly, and separated by many years. 

Several instances of this kind lead to the conclusion that 
the author made many insertions in the course of compo- 
sition. The frequent references to authors, and even to the 
pages referred to, further strengthen this assertion and also 
help in dating more accurately The Newe Metamorphosis. 
Ralegh's History of the World,^ Purchas his Pilgrimage,'^ and 
Milles' popular The Treasurie of Auncient and Moderne 
Times,^ all pubHshed in 1613 or later, are mentioned, the 
last most frequently and in both volumes. Consequently, 
it is safe to assert that the poem was not completed before 
1614 or 1615. Even the different parts of the manuscript 
can be dated with some accuracy, for there are many scat- 
tered allusions to contemporary history, to the early Roman- 
ist plots against James,* to the assassination of Henry of 
France, to the planting of colonies in Virginia and in Ireland,^ 
to give only a few examples. 

The reasons which deterred the author from publishing 
a work upon which he had spent so many years cannot be 
definitely determined. J. M., as the manuscript tells us, 
served in various campaigns, and he may have written 
The Newe Metamorphosis to furnish diversion to his com- 
panions or to relieve the weariness of camp life. But the 
Prologue, the many insertions, and the dedication, all 
seem to show conclusively that the manuscript was intended 
for pubhcation and to gain the applause of his contem- 

1 Entered in the Stationers' Register 15 April, 1611, but not pub- 
lished until 1614; Camden says the 29th of March. 

2 First folio, 1613. 

3 London, 1613-19. 2 vols. The Bodleian Catalogue gives the second 
volume as 1616. 

* Vol. II, fos. 198 verso ff. 

B Vol. II, fos. 134 ff. The plantation of Ulster took place 1607. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 7 

poraries.^ He planned at first — as the title-pages make 
clear — to write only twelve books, and he undoubtedly 
would defer his search of an audience until he had finished 
his first volume, the last book of which has a reference to 
the death of Henry, the eldest son of the king.^ In the 
meantime, both his material and his plan demanded a second 
volume. When he wrote the "Finis" in 1615 or even later, 
the temper of his contemporaries had undergone a change, 
and The Newe Metamorphosis, as written at first,^ would 
necessarily have to be revised in many ways before its 
author could win the favor of the Stuart court. Additional 
reasons why J. M., even at the conclusion of the first volume, 
would hesitate to pubhsh his work can be advanced after 
the identity of the author has been determined. "* 

The arguments for the first six books separate the two 
title-pages. These are repeated before the respective 
books with minor changes in spelling and wording. The 
same plan is followed for the six books of Part 11.^ In 
Volume II, however, the arguments are found not together 
at the beginning, but only separately, each before its re- 
spective book. 

At the end of Volume II the author, in conclusion, before 
he naively writes, 

My leave I here of Poetrie doe take 
for I have writte untill my hande doe ake 
Finis, 

again enumerates the sins of his contemporaries and of the 
world at large which, by means of tales or by direct attack, 
he has arraigned in The New Metamorphosis. As these 
concluding lines and the twenty-four arguments give an 

1 Cf. Prologue, Chap. VI. « Henry died in 1612. 

2 Prologue. •• Cf. Chap. V, pp. 155 £f. 

* The argument for Part II, Book V, is not given before the book. 
In the margin the argument of Book IV, crossed out, is repeated. 



8 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

idea of the amazing variety and types of subjects which 
J. M. treats, I shall quote them in toto: 

Vol. I 

Lib: 1. Argument. 
The Gods dispos'd to mirthe did for their Plotte 
make choise of Fayery : Quarels for the Lotte 
of Goverment: Treason 'gainst Chastety: 
The Cloysters exercise cald venerie 
Venus ta'ne washinge by the Fisherman: 
Joves wronges he there expostulateth than. 

Lib. 2. Argumente. 
Rewarde of Luste : scominge th' Love-Deitie : 
Foule sinnes are punished in Hyberie : 
Fooles caught w*'' gay lookes, & their fond rewarde: 
Fault-finders-faults, in punishment have shar'd : 
Loves most strange Labour: Hasty love repented 
rash vowes perform'd, their chastisement augmented. 

Lib. 3. Argument. 
The quarrell 'bout the Lotte devission makes 
amongst the Gods, the rest wi*^ Mars pertakes: 
Lusts black conception, birth & progenie: 
Incest is punisht, & that worthely : 
Joves wrathfull threats upon ApoUos seede 
Scylumen, Chryses 't did to them succede 

Lib. 4. Argument. 
Love sends them packinge to their severall Loves: 
The Curtizans welcome Liber Pater proves : 
The vine f ounde out, with 's virtues manifold : 
Antsephors acts so desperate & bold ^ 
Men u'sd to Theft will kepe their hands in ure 
Hels scoffinge at him, he's forst to endure 

^ This argument as prefaced to Book IV reads, "acts most desper- 
ately bold." 



'^^I^'yt^, 




FoLio FROM "The Newtc Metamorphosis" 



THE MANUSCRIPT 

Lib. 5. Argument.* 
The Pyren-Ladies, challenge th' Muses nyne 
to singe w*^ them, likewise a triple trine: 
Neptunes love to Tamisis greate is showne 
he takes her to him, keepes her as his owne, 
description of her: Th' Banquet of th' Deities 
made by Pryapus : Capernus lecheries : 

Lib. 6. Argument 
Inconstancie describ'd : Theft punished : 
Whoredom & Murder, both on one stringe lead: 
Inventions many :^ Sodomy: Adulterie: 
Pride: Superstition: Black Necromancie: 
The Judge beinge bribed w*^ a golden fee 
gave sentence wronge, for w*^^ he 'scapt not free. 

Lib: 7. Argument.^ 
Withred-old-age, doates on Childe-infancie 
begettes two sonnes. Avarice & Jealousie 
all three described vively to the life : 
Lust kils the Husband to enj oye the wife : 
One trustinge Fortune-tellers is run wilde : 
By Mercuric he is of 's wife beguilde: 

Lib. 8. Argument. 
Womans presumptuous wish, her pride abated: 
Fish-stealers : Love-Nymphs: Empirie translated: 
Rare Glasse: strange tliinges: Secrets discoverers, 
punisht w*^ busie bodie Reformers : 
GuUions greate draughte: Xadleus iughng tricks: 
Murderers in prisson, love Dice, Drinke, Meri-trix. 

Lib. 9. Argument. 
Wars 't^\dxt Arabian & the Egyptian Kinge 
both lost their hves, their manner buryinge : 

* This argument is not found before Book V. 

2 "Many inventions," in the argument prefixed to Liber 6. 

3 This commences Part II of Vol. I or Add. MS. 14,825. 



10 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Arabians Queene, rare paterne of True-love: 
Of Womens praise, th' exceede Men it doth prove: 
Adultery, Murder: Women monstrous Blabs 
No secrets t' women, 'specially if Drabbes. 

Lib. 10. Argument. 
The Popes greate power: their Legends, Histories: 
they keepe the Lawe, their severall Qualities: 
Rome is describ'd, part of th' Popes revenewes: 
Fantastick fashions : Blynd-Assinus ensewes : 
The Ram-pie-f easte : Apollo, Mercurie 
two Faiery Nymphes, chose for societie. 

Lib. 11. Argum*: 
Of Friendship : Travaihnge for uncertainties: 
Executors, their lewde deceipte & guise 
debasinge th' Heire, & making her turne Whoare: 
Saturnia's Jealousie deceiv'd evermore : 
Her curious searche: Corycus Cave describ'd 
her findinge Jove, contendinge, reconcil'd. 

Lib. 12. Argum*: 
Cupid & Venus parlie, she him chides: 
The Gods fall foule, the Parliament decydes 
the Controversie : Cupid is banished : 
Mischeifes that f oUowe : Merlyn prophesied 
Gunnes are invented: Th' Fleete Invincible 
saild back to Spaine, almost Invisible. 

Volume II. Add. MS. 14,826 ^ 
Tomus secundus 
Liber primus 
Argumente. 
England describ'd, th' happinesse in its Kinge: 
Love seekes a Service, sure a wondrous thinge : 
The crueltie of th' Tanner punished : 
Cupids ill happe is nexte desciphered: 

1 The arguments in this volume are given only before the respec- 
tive books. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 11 

Love conquers Conquerers : Men of best desertes 
are wrong'd by Women that have double hartes. 

Lib. 2 
Argument.^ 
Arcadias Hfe & pastorall hapinesse 
reproof e of Moderne tymes so great excesse: 
The dismall danger of immodest wives 
who chaste ones have, their treble happie lives: 
The Merchants curse, the Pyrats wickednesse 
Rebellions mischeife doth the next expresse. 

Lib. 3. Argument.^ 
Cupid doth quenche the heate of Paphian f yres : 
Mercury, th' Gods Spokes-man, humbly Jove desyres 
to recall Cupid: who with 's Love returnes: 
The pure chaste hfe of all your Cloystred Nunnes: 
The Pryor seekes t' prevent the Prophesy: 
Whiles th' Meale-mouth'd-Miller, was at 's venerie. 

Lib. 4. Argument.^ 
A coy lasse woonne, after longe weary sute : 
of Lustfull persons the prodigious f ruite : 
Presumption punisht by that very hande : 
that humble Chemmish caus'd aloft to stande: 
Diana's grove feld downe despightfully 
the wronge revenged by that Deitie. 

Lib. 5. Argument.* 
Avarice & Theft are duely punished : 
Loose huswives bragges of lewdnes 'sciphered: 
Womens affections to their husbands greate : 
Fonde wishers : Such as betters ill entreate : 
Nuptials of Venus & f als play set forth : 
Th' Tale-teller & her sister punisht both. 

^ Fol. 21. This is written in the margin; the argument for Book I 
has been repeated and crossed out. ^ Vol. II, fol. 37 verso. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 57. * Vol. II, fol. 72. 



12 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Liber 6. Argument.^ 
Strange Fountaines vertues & their qualities: 
Illiterate Priests, their foolish ceremonies : 
Dumbe Dogges once barkinge, & their pronunciation: 
Th' abuse of learnd Physicians vocation : 
Children abusing Parents reprehended : 
Wives runninge from their Husbands are condemned: 

Lib. 7. Argument.^ 
Th' Incontinent doth the Suspected murther: 
Lust, Murther, Gaminge, doe their owne deaths further: 
Cales voyage is describ'd, their quick returne, 
EngUsh humanitie, they the Countrie burne: 
A Lady mourninge for th' losse of her Sonne 
slayne in the Conflict when to th' Gates they run. 

Liber S.^ 

Argument. 
Returninge home from Cales to passe the tyme, 
ech one must tell his tale in Prose or Ryme : 
About Plantations first they doe begin : 
Of th' Lottery: next of The Wittols sin: 
A Ladies chastety vively set out: 
A Lasses coynes punished sans doubt : &cy 

Liber 9. 
Argumente.'* 
Coactive love unsounde: of MessaUne 
th' incontinence & boldnes most supine: 
Crafte overcatcht & taken Unaware : 
Th' Cockneis wantonnes, many in 't have share: 
Ambitious women: greate presumption: 
Lawyers Atheisticall dissimulation &c. &c. &c. 

1 Vol. II, fol. 94 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 110 verso. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 128. 
* Vol. II, fol. 151. 



■<,./.:.. a .i^»<^»'- ^ ' ^ ^'^.^ w^ ^-''"* - 






' aLsm& ,^^^ 9f, 















Folio from "The Newe ^Ietamorphosl- 



THE aAnUSCRIPT 13 

Liber 10. Argumente.' 
Murder & Treason, Romes Religion: 
The Plotte describ'd of th' Powder Treason: 
The Traytors punishment, their goeinge to Hell : 
Their change of office w*'^ became them well : 
The Jesuits vertue lively is set forth. 
Tyburne the Antidote : 'gainst Tyburs wroth. 

Liber 11. Argument.^ 
Of drunkards here a storje large you see 
and eke of those that their Abettors be. 
Of Gluttony the next, excesse in Feastinge 
w*'^ many after makes exceede in Fastinge. 
Contentious Knaves, next here must have a roome 
Calumnious-viperous-tongues from Hell doe come. 

Liber 12. Metamorphosis. 
Argumente.^ 
The Catalogue of ancient Brittish Kinges : 
Prince Henries deathe : Elizas NuptiaUinges : 
Some strange Mutations at the Princely Revels: 
Of Avarice the most unmanly evils : 
False-play under th' bourde nexte requires a roome : 
And Pride w"** heere doth for the last Dish come. 

*The many vices of us derely loved 
in this discourse I freely have reproved 
nor for their greaftnes doe I spare their vice 
for that's exemplar, & doth more entice 
I have not feared, their greate Masters frowne 
though he goe clothed in his scarlet gowne 
though thousand p[er]sons too he can comand 
better then he, I have not held my hande 

1 Vol. II, fol. 194 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 234. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 249 verso. 

^ Vol. II, fos. 267 ff. This is the conclusion of the poem. 



14 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

but have as boldly laid them to thy views 
as they doe them comit, fearles, yet true 
as Wantonnes, pride, bribery, buggerie 
falsehood, rape, hastie-love, sodomie 
bauderie, Curtezans-guise, superstition 
Witchcraft, rash-promise-making, bold-presumption 
incest, murder, insolence, inconstancie 
rash-vowes, trust-betraying, necromancie 
theft, avarice, usurie & drunkennes 
incontinence, face-painting, inquisitivenes 
ieolousie, blasphemie, crueltie, Piracie 
moderne-excesse, Rebellion, periurie 
cowardice, voaginge, fruites of lust, cOynes 
self-murder, fonde- wishers, & idlenes 
ingratefull-children, contempt of superiors 
cosonage, quarellinge, abuse of strangers 
lyinge, blab-tongue-women, inprecatinge 
polutinge-temples, coactive-love, gaminge 
ambition, Ladies-courtesie-abused 
Executors deceipte not to be excused 
Dissimulation, Womens-impudence 
Romes chastety, must be in th' future tense 
backbitinge, drunkards & their abettors 
gluttonie, contentious-persons, debtors 
craft-over-reacht, puttinge-children to Nurse 
swearinge, Wittolrie, the Merchants curse 
phisick-abus'd. Lawyers dissimulation 
excess-in-apparell, Heraldrie-abus'd, Treason 
Papists-religion, Jesuits- villanie 
equivocation, th' grounde of trecherie 
Men valued by their habits in Kings-Courts 
illitterate-Priests & Guls, Lots not for sports 
the chastetie of all the cloystaed crue 
superstitious of prophesies receive their due 
betters envyinge, scorninge inferiors 
mockers of prophesy, women-maligners 
for many Popes dispense w*^ foulest sinnes 



THE MANUSCRIPT 15 

Pope holynes & chastetye, not worth two pinnes 
Women-wearing-breeches, men-monstrous-masters 
fantastick-fashions, Empericks, rash-censurers, 
Vaine glorious-asses, irreconcihable-hatred 
perfidiousnes, old dotards, friendship-abused 
Warring t' enlarge Kingdomes, w*^ many more 
I reckon not all by well neere a score 
a hundred vices I doe thinke at least 
I've here displaid & against them protest 
learne not to doe them, but them viewe w*^ hate 
lest loving them, you them repent too late 
if you the vice comit, you may expecte 
the punishment : let not the one inf ecte 
unles y' are wiUing, th' other should be inflicted 
w*^ severall iudgments, note howe th' are afflicted 
by these mens falles, I all men warne. Beware 
for such as take noe warning, I not care 



Nowe for conclusion therfore of the whole 
to all ahke, I've freely dealt my dole 
& spar'd noe vice that came w^^in my waie 
so here I meane my weary course to stale 
some more accurate will shortly tread the pathe 
my rougher Muse already beaten hath 
my leave I here of Poetrie doe take 
for I have writte untill my hande doth ake 
Finis. 

After reading these arguments and concluding lines of 
The Newe Metamorphosis, one can judge the amazing variety 
of subjects with which the author deals. With the extrava- 
gance of his period J. M. tells us with some arrogance and 
self-praise, "I have spar'd no one." Indeed, he might have 
written with truth that on some vices, especially those with 
which he charged the Church of Rome,^ he had expended 

^ The Church of Rome is attacked in every book, but especially in 
Book X of both Vol. I and Vol. II. 



16 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

sufficient vigor and virulent personalities to rival even the 
sledge-hammer strokes of Skelton. And on the other hand 
he metes out punishment for many of the sins of the flesh 
with apparent lack of sincerity; the author often chuckles 
audibly when telling with Rabelaisian gusto some particu- 
larly salacious tale, and the metamorphosis given as a rec- 
ompense for the wickedness of his characters seems a most 
perfunctory afterthought.^ 

The second title-page ^ is followed by a dialogue between 
the love god Cupid and the railing deity Momus, each one 
contending for the privilege of being patron of the follow- 
ing stories. Cupid hurls at Momus the abuse not only 
typical of much of the early popular satire, but also so 
abundantly found in the contemporary classical imitations 
of Persius and Juvenal.^ Cupid cries: 

"Thou foule mouthed, filthy, squite-eyed-cankered churle * 

that against all doth envious speeches hurle 

dost thou not knowe that I greate love can make 

my pleasant easy yoake upon him take? 

Howe then dar'st thou deny me to be Kinge 

who stirre affection in ech livinge thinge? 

But what dost here? why medlest w*^ these lynes? 

say what is here whereat thy heart repynes?" 

[]Momus:D "I come to have them to me dedicate." 

This contention of the two gods is finally arranged by Mo- 
mus' decision that both should be the patrons of the work. 
He says : 

^ There are many examples of tales of this description; excellent 
examples are the stories told around the bed of the woman in confine- 
ment. Vol. II, Book V. 

2 Vol. I, fol. 3. 

3 Examples are Hall's Virgidemiarum (1597), Biting Satires (1598); 
Marston The Metamorphosis of Pygmalions Image ; and certain Satyres 
(1598), The Scourge of Villanie (1598); Microcynicon by T. M., etc. 

4 Vol. I, fol. 4. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 17 

W[i]thin this booke is matter of delighte ^ 
that patronize thou: that w'^^ is of spighte 
my self will have, I will liis Patron bee 
and let the envious freely carpe at mee 
take thou the one & I will have the other." 

Their dialogue is followed by a few lines by "The Authore 
to his Booke," showing that his intention had been to- 
dedicate his work to the great Elizabeth, — 

That which was unto a Queene intended 
is nowe unto, two powerfull gods comended "^ 

and in turn by the "Epistle dedicatorie" in just a single 
couplet, 

To Momus that same ever carpinge mate 

And unto Cupid, I this dedicate. 

The author himself, in his Prologue,^ next introduces 
his book to the reader. After some self-praise and with the 
customary smug complacency of the Elizabethan satirist, 
he considers what shall be the nature of the work of which 
two gods are patrons. "Bloody warres," tales of love, 
histories of "Countryes strange," "rough Satyres" in 
"rough hairy skinnes, and "buskind Seneca," each in turn 
attracts him. Eventually he decides to combine these 
motifs; to touch them "one & all." Indeed, he confides 
to his public that The Newe Metamorphosis, because of its 
variety of themes, is like, 

... a Flemish Gallemanfrey made 
of flesh, herbes, onyons, both of roote and blade. 

With Ovid as his only "patterne" in a work of this nature, 
J. M. determines to arraign "these impious tymes" in 
"yrefull Satyres, clad in rugged rymes." He asserts that 
he will not affect "curiositie of words," because his subject 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 4 verso. 2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 4 verso. 

3 Cf. Chap. VI. 



18 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

does not demand it; in fact, he writes that he has "noe 
Poets pleasinge smoth-fyl'd veyne," and that he travels in 
a "hobbhng ryme." The Prologue closes with a prayer 
to Jove and to the Muses for favor, and a request to "Ma- 
tilda fayre" that she, who "rulest my harte," may aid his 
"wandering quill" in its attacks on the "secretest actions 
of rebyredness." At the close of the Prologue, in spite of 
the twenty-four arguments to the respective books and the 
diffuse conclusion to his work, the author again gives with 
some detail those vices he especially condemns in this "world 
infected with the goute." 

This Prologue not only sheds additional light on the 
nature of The Newe Metamorphosis, but it also brings to the 
foreground two matters for some consideration. The 
questions naturally arise both concerning the identity of 
'' Matilda fayre," whom the author prays to "inflame my 
braine with Love celestiall fyre," and — what is of far more 
significance — the more technical subject of verse. 

/. M. in his digressions throughout the body of his work 
refers many times to this passion for Matilda.^ He writes 
that all poets know love, and, indeed, that he had written 
"these rough-hewen lynes" of The Newe Metamorphosis 
because he was inspired with its flame. ^ He places Matilda 
prominently among those women famous for their virtue 
and courage, and envies the man "who her enioyes at bed 
& bourd," for, as he writes with some charm, she is of those 
women, 

they Roses redolent w*'^ sences chere 
men but as pricks w'^^ doe the roses beare 
they are the swete Prim-roses of the feild 
or Honey-suckles w"^ most sweetnes yeild.^ 

^ Examples are Vol. II, fos. 3 verso, 4, 13 verso, 14, 41, 28, 31 verso; 
Vol. I, Part II, fos. 49 verso ff. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 13 verso. = Vol. I, Part II, fol. 49 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 19 

The reader can see by the many scattered references to 
Matilda that J. M. was no cold and formal lover delicately 
playing with the tender passion according to traditional 
rules. She was no illusive mistress of an Elizabethan 
sonnet sequence. Still in those books of the poem which 
clearly belong to the later years of composition, there is 
no further mention of his youthful fancy. Whether the 
poet had conquered his passion, or additional years had 
proved to him that even "Swete Matilda" was no longer 
needed for an inspiration to so facile and loquacious a writer, 
must remain in doubt. It is a matter of interest, however, 
that in his earlier work, in spite of those diatribes against 
women — an inheritance to the Elizabethan from the 
middle ages — there is much generous praise and, indeed, 
reverence for the good wife, the noble mother, and the virtuous 
maiden.^ 

In addition to the allusion to Maltilda, the author also 
tells us in the Prologue that he will arraign the vices of the 
times in "yrefull satyres, clad in rugged rymes." A little 
later he writes that "Satyres are clothed in rough hairy 
skinnes" and that 

I have noe Poets pleasinge smoth fyld veyne 
but a ragg'd Satyrists rougher hewen straine. 

It seems, therefore, best to discuss at this point the versi- 
fication of The Newe Metamorphosis and the general nature 
of the work. 

The poem is written in heroic couplet, fairly regular and 
with comparatively few of the run-on lines so displeasing 
to the eighteenth-century prosodist. Donne had first used 
in England the decasyllabic couplet in formal satire ;2 but 

^ For example see Vol. I, Part II, fos. 49 verso, 98, etc. 

2 Cf. R. M. Alden, The Rise of Formal Satire in England, p. 83. 



20 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

he did not possess the metrical feHcity or epigrammatic 
skill of his contemporary Joseph Hall, whose verse, Warton 
wrote, "approaches to the modern standards."^ Indeed, 
Hall attained to an eminent degree the central caesura, 
the balance of the two halves of the verse, the completion of 
sense in the couplet, found in the eighteenth-century sati- 
rists. Spenser ^ and Drayton ^ had also used with consider- 
able skill, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, the 
heroic couplet for narrative work. And so J. M., with many 
excellent contemporary models, and Chaucer's brilliant use 
of the couplet also, possibly, in mind, chose "the best metri- 
cal form which intelligence, as distinct from poetical feeling, 
can employ."^ 

It cannot be claimed that our author is eminently happy 
in his use of verse. He often travels with a "hobbling 
gait," and he himself is most candid in admitting his limi- 
tations. Many times in the work, when fired by love of 
country, of church, of his rulers, or of virtue, he plaintively, 
and apparently sincerely, confesses his shortcomings as a 
poet. He makes no claim that he is favored by his Muse. 
He also has written hastily and revised seldom. 

The following quotations are not the most happy examples 
of the poet's versification, but they show him laboring under 
genuine emotion: 

Thou great all-seeing, & almighty-God 
w"^ makest the wicked feele thine angry rod 
thou great Creator of this globe-like world 
w°^ thus o"" enimies into sea hast hurld 
thou God of Battles & successfull warre 
w^''*^ thus our foes didst from o'" kingdome bar 

1 Warton, History of English Poetry, ed. Hazlitt, "Vol. IV, p. 367. 

2 Cf. Spenser, Mother Hubberd's Tale. 
' Drayton, Heroicall Epistles, 1597. 

* Woodberry, Makers of Literature, p. 504. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 21 

accept this sacrifice which I freely give 
Most humble thanks, & will doe, while I live 
for this deliverance from o"" enimye 
who us, religion, & thy selfe defie 
Not unto us, oh Lord, not unto us 
are praises due, thou art victorious 
unto thy name, we attribute the praise 
who for thy chosen hast so many wayes 
to work deliverance : oh defend us still 
from Spanish rage, who toyle to worke us ill 
oh still defende Mee & my Realmes from those 
that both to Thee & us are mortall foes 
as all o'' hope is in thy saving name 
so evermore defende us by the same 
Amen, amen, greate Jove graunt o'" request 
so both in life & death we shalbe blest ^ 

Warre is a Tyrant & a bloody one 

it hath noe eares to heare the widdowes moane 

it heares not infants, virgines, womens cryes 

War 's deafe on 's eares, & bUnd on both his eyes 

Warre seperates the Lover from his Love 

and doth the husband from his wife remove 

it barren makes & wastes the fertilst soile 

it keepes the Husbandman from 's pleasing toile. 

Warre doth expose to dangers infinite 

't is noe boyes play in feild 'mongst foes to fight ^ 

Peace is a thinge of most admyred worth 
Peace breedeth plenty & makes ech place florish 
all lauded arts it teacheth & doth nourish 
Peace maketh learning florish, goods increase 
a sacred thinge is sweete according Peace 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 134 verso ff. A prayer of Elizabeth after the 
defeat of the Armada. 

^ Vol. II, fol. 127 verso. An only son has been slain in the sacking 
of Cadiz, 1596. 



22 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

it fiUeth men w*^ joye & boyes w*^ mirthe 
it labo'"^ to expell all-killinge-dearth 
Peace fiUes w**^ people, countryes, cityes, townes 
it puts off Steele & clotheth men in gownes 

Arachne in the Steele cappe, workes apace 
her endles web w^'^in a narrowe space. 
Peace, plants & builds, & sowes & reapes increase 
marryes, makes contracts, trafiques ore the seas 
makes purchases be bought & marts frequented 
makes toylesome husbandman take lease indented 
peace plants religion, that soule-saving-arte 
w'^*^ mortals doth imortally converte. ^ 

Only once in the course of the work does the author 
change from the heroic couplet. A martial lover has been 
wooing in vain, and finally, driven by his passion to verse, 
he addresses to his lady several stanzas of six verses of the 
type used so melodiously in Venus and Adonis. This hero 
finally won his mistress after using the aid of a very mis- 
chievous god of love and the disguise of a page employed 
also by Viola,^ Euphrasia,^ and Eroclea"* in the drama of the 
period. His stanzas pray for the transforming of his cruel 
mistress into compliance. Following are the last two: 

Which, Oh you Gods, that did Pigmalion ayde 

ayde me I you beseeche on bended knee 

move but her harte, (the w''^ so much hath straied 

from my deere love) that she my love may see 

& thou swete Venus, helpe too w*^ the rest 

so shalt thou wyn me to thy deere behest. 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 66 ff. In praise of peace with Spain. 

2 Shakspere, Twelfth Night. 

3 Beaumont and Fletcher, Philaster. 
* Ford, The Lover's Melancholy. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 23 

Grante, grante yee Gods, that her harde diamonde harte 
may metamorphosed be to softest mould 
greate Cupid thou helpe w*''* thy burning darte 
she burne w*^ heate, rather then frize w*^ colde 
grante, grante yee heavenly powers this my request 
w*'^ if you doe I shalbe ever blest. 

Even from the few preceding examples one can see that 
when J. M. in the Prologue declares that his purpose is to 
attack the follies and sins of his contemporaries in "yrefull 
satyres, clad in rugged rhymes" and that his verse is "a 
ragg'd Satyrists rougher hewen strain," he is only following 
that popular conception of his day concerning the rough- 
ness and ruggedness of satires. His verse, it is true, lacks 
the harmony and musical hghtness of the true artist of versi- 
fication, but the diction is strikingly free from labored man- 
nerisms or uncouth affectations. He is never obscure. 

This conception that the satirist must be savage, obscure, 
and rough was traditional. Donne, one of the first, if not 
the first, of the formal satu'ists in England, certainly shows 
a contempt of regularity to an excessive degree, and his 
measure is often characterized "by approximation to the 
common speech of conversation."^ But Hall,^ on the other 
hand, was metrically an artist of no mean skill; and his 
rival Marston,^ although not so regular or polished in his 
use of the couplet, yet possessed unmistakable power. 
Persius, however, with his supposedly crabbed and snarUng 
tone, was the model of the Elizabethan satirist. Marston, 
indeed, speaks of the "Hungry fangs" of "Satires sharpes 
line" and of the "knotty rod";* but he also writes that 

1 R. M. Alden, The Rise of Formal Satire in England, p. 83. 

2 Virgidetniarum Sixe Books. 

3 The Metamorphosis of Pigjnalions Image and Cerlayne Satyres, 
1598; The Scourge of Villanie, 1598. 

4 Satire II, p. 269. Cf. Bullen, Marston's Works, Vol. III. 



24 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

" I hate to affect too much obscurity and harshness, because 
they profit no sense" and that there are some "deeming all 
satires bastard which are not palpably dark, and so rough 
writ that the hearing of them read would set a man's teeth 
on edge."^ It was this conventional conception of satire 
that made the author of The Newe Metamorphosis express 
himself in the words quoted from the Prologue. 

But even the statement that he is a satirist, or at least 
primarily a satirist, can be further questioned. In spite 
of his dedication to the God of Spight, as well as to Cupid, 
and in spite of his oft-expressed assumption of an exalted 
moral purpose,^ J. M. is surely no writer of formal satire 
based on classical models, or even of the popular variety 
indigenous in England since the time of the Conquest and 
reaching its culmination in Piers Plowman and its most 
extravagant expression in Skelton. He is rather a shrewd 
author with his fingers on the pulse of a fickle public, trying 
to strike a popular note to gain the attention of the restless, 
sensation-craving Elizabethan. Cupid, we know, shares 
the honor with Momus as patron of the work, and we also 
read that no one was a "patterne" to him in England, but 

. . . Ovid alone was he 
that in this labo' did encourage me. 

Later we are told that love drives his victims to poetry 
and that the author, a slave of the god, has turned to this 
work in acknowledgment of the chains he wears.^ Indeed, 
the first title-page, reading The Newe Metamorphosis, Or 
A Feaste of Fancie or Poeticall Legendes, shows indubitably 
the original intention of J. M. The second title-page, 

1 Preface to Scourge of Villanie, Vol. Ill, pp. 304, 305. 

2 For example see Prologue, fos. 5 verso, 6 recto; Vol. II, Book XII, 
conclusion. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 13 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 25 

reading An I Iliad of Metamorphosis Or The Arraignment of 
Vice, adds the idea of "yrefuU Satyres": 

t' unvizar those w*^^ secretly doe maske 

in selfe-conceiDt, & their lewde actions showe 

that ah the world their villainies may knowe.^ 

And, even his naive confession that he does not possess the 
time 

... to bestowe, 
more labo"" on them,- the rather for I knowe 
bookes of this nature being once pCer]used 
are ther cast by & as brayed-ware refused.^ 

shows that /. M. intended no serious work of instruction 
and edification, but rather purposed to give ''matter of 
dehght" to many readers. 

There is, however, much satire scattered throughout the 
many pages, — satire that is pungently vigorous, bringing 
at times a nicely etched picture before the reader, and again 
satire that rivals in bitterness and coarseness the vitupera- 
tive outbursts of the Reformation satirists. This may be 
expressed in a verse or two, in long passages, or, as is 
frequently the case, it may furnish the motif for a story 
of some length. It may be linked closely to the material 
concerning which the author is writing, or again a chance 
word or an idea distantly related to the subject-matter may 
be the occasion for a digression, often of interest. 

J. M., in general, attacks the same abuses and vices found 
in both earher and contemporary satire. He adds httle 
that is new. Women — their fickleness,* love of gossip,^ 

1 Vol. I, fol. 5. 

2 The books. 

^ Prologue, fol. 6. 

* Vol. I, fol. 64 verso. 

^ Vol. I, Part II, fos. 42, 76 verso. 



26 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

shrewish perversity/ extravagance and greed for money, ^ 
incontinence ^ — are the theme of much jocose and con- 
ventional abuse. The bawd and the courtesan are also 
frequently held up in contumely. The gull, with his passion 
for absurd fashions, his easy deception by a wanton wife,* 
and his foolish affectations in diction,^ is also a popular 
and recurring theme. Alchemy,^ idle superstition,' "fake" 
doctors,* the ignorance of the clergy,^ usury,^° gambling, ^^ 
drunkenness,^^ are all arraigned with considerable heat. 
The nouveaux riches ^^ and the many worthless aspirants 
to gentility especially arouse the author's anger. He 
attacks them with vehemence, writing in scorn that 

ech Kenil-raker for eleven nobles may 

have Heralds nowe his riche coate to display 

for Ravens all about the country flie 

for bace reward to Patent-Genterie 
nay to compeU men that unwilling be 
so he may have a mercinary fee 
a fee of fower markes he'le accept or rather 
to make them Gentlemen that had no father 
base & lowe ranke clownes. Artificers 
for he his prey 'hove all respects prefers 

so some are nowe growne ancient Gentlemen 

who by the yeare of pounds can scarce spende ten 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 19 verso, 71 verso; Vol. II, fol. 124 verso. 

2 Vol. I, fol. 74; Vol. II, fos. 10 ff. 
' Vol. I, fol. 75 verso. 

* Vol. I, Part I, fos. 78 ff.; Vol. II, fos. 71, 138, 257 verso ff. 
« Vol. I, Part II, Book X. 
« Vol. I, Part II, fol. 28 verso. 

7 Vol. I, fos. 68, 76 verso; Vol. II, 53 verso. 

8 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 46; Vol. II, fos. 98 verso ff. 

9 Vol. II, fos. 96 ff. 

1" Vol. II, fos. 258 verso ff. i" Vol. II, fos. 234 ff. 

" Vol. II, fos. 116 verso ff. " Vol. II, fos. 263 ff. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 27 

and base Mechanicks that but Barbers be 
doe boast themselves nowe of their Genterie. 
I mervaile much that that same noble vice 
should Gnats & Wormes unto its lure entice 
that Butterflies & caterpillers should 
seeke to adorne themselves in cloth of gold. 

But when J. M. speaks of lawyers, of faithless magis- 
trates and evil executors ^ robbing the orphan, of Spain, the 
traditional enemy of his country,^ of traitors to his ruler, 
and preeminently of the Church of Rome, ^' * we find a 
ringing note of hearty sincerity in his utterances, a sterner 
voice arraigning what he believes to be the most insidious 
and dangerous enemies of England. The follies and idio- 
syncrasies of his equals, the petty ambitions and mean- 
nesses of those about him, excite a rather contemptuously 
amused attitude; but traitors to his country and to his 
religion call forth anathemas. 

The Newe Metamorphosis, however, is essentially a col- 
lection of stories, the majority of them of evildoers who 
by some metamorphosis are punished by the enraged gods. 
It is a continuation in verse of the popular work of Painter, 
Fenton, Pettie, Rich,^ and their imitators, except that 
Ovid and contemporary hfe often furnished the coloring 
and motif. 

1 Vol. I, fos. 83 ff., 88; Part II, fol. 97; Vol. II, fos. 75 ff. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 122 verso ff. 

s Vol. I, Book X, and Vol. II, Book X, especially. 

* In Vol. II, Book X, fol. 232 verso, J. M. speaks of his attacks on 
the "Catholique Church"; in Vol. I, Part II, fol. 91 verso he refers 
to his attacks on the "holy Clarkes" of Rome. He considers all those 
who recognize the spiritual authority of the Pope as "Catholique," 
and he attacks in the manuscript not only the ceremonies of the Roman 
Chm-ch, but also its followers. In the following pages I use the term 
"Roman Catholic" in the accepted sense. 

* Sixteenth-century writers of prose tales based usually on Italian 
novels. 



28 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

J . M. knew that love tales, and especially stories of meta- 
morphosis, were popular in England. Scilla's Metamor- 
phosis had appeared in 1589; ^ Venus and Adonis had 
certainly met with favor; there was a second edition of Hero 
andLeander in 1600;^ and Marston's Pygmalion,^ in spite — 
or possibly because — of its want of delicacy, became so 
widely circulated that Archbishop Whitgift ordered it 
consigned to the flames along with certain other offensive 
works/ Jervase Markham, in the same year that saw 
Venus and Adonis given to the public, entered in the Sta- 
tioners' Register a work, now lost, called Thyrsis and 
Daphne,^ which may have belonged to this class.^ 

/. M., planning to catch the ear of a volatile public, 
combined this metamorphosis motif with its tendency to 
indelicacy and "wanton rhymes" to that of satire. Indeed, 
he probably justified himself in this way, in anticipation 
against the charge of licentiousness, by donning a mask of 
conventional morality, which at times he frankly drops when 
the piquancy and zest of a certain episode appeal too strongly 
to him ^ or when his inherent moral strength and hatred of 
certain kinds of cant and hypocrisy stir him from his pose.^ 

In addition to the popularity of the vidian poem, offer- 
ing both an opportunity for the excess mellifluence and for 

1 Thomas Lodge. 

2 Two editions of Hero and Leander had appeared in 1598, the first 
edition containing only Marlowe's work. 

^ The Metamorphosis of Pygmalions Image and certayne Satyres, 
entered in the Stationers' Register on May 27, 1598. 

* June, 1599. Hall, Guilpin, Cutwood, Davies, and Marlowe were 
among those punished with Marston. 

* Venus and Adonis entered April 18, 1593. 

^ Francis Beaumont's Salmacis and Hermaphroditus was published 
in 1602. 

^ Many examples of this; one is Vol. 1, fos. 40 verso ff. 

* Vol. I, Book X, is an example. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 29 

the tendency to indelicate details so attractive to the EUza- 
bethan, the word "Metamorphosis" was most popular as 
a title during the decade before the death of Elizabeth and 
in the first years of the reign of James. Besides being used 
in the poems before mentioned, we find the popular trans- 
lator of Orlando Fiirioso shocking and amusing the not too 
fastidious court by his A neiv Discourse of a Stale Subject, 
called the Metamorphosis of Ajax, ^ which, chiefly because 
of its satiric grossness and broad humor, was printed three 
times in one year. In 1600, the year that J. M. commenced 
his work, we find the "semi-allegorical" and semi-satiric'* 
Transformed Metamorphosis of Cyril Tourneur, which in 
its attacks on the Roman Catholic Church,^ its allusions to 
Essex' Irish campaign,^ and its conclusion dealing with the 
coming of James as the defender of Protestanism strikes 
many notes touched in The Newe Metamorphosis. The same 
year also saw the entering in the Stationers' Register of the 
dramas. Maids Metamorphosis and Loves Metamorphosis. 

This popularity of the vidian poem, of satire, of the 
metamorphosis title, and especially of collections of stories 
undoubtedly prompted J. M. to the choice of the subject- 
matter and the title of this manuscript with the result 
that The Newe Metamorphosis reflects to a marked degree 
the tastes of the period. 

As J. M. writes in the Prologue that Ovid alone was his 
"patterne," the reader might expect that in the pages fol- 
lowing he would find a series of Ovidian stories. From 

1 Published 1596. Mr. Steevens in his edition of Shakespere, 1793, 
Vol. 5, p. 354, says that "a licence was refused for printing this book, 
and the author was forbid the court for writing it." 

2 Tourneur's Plays and Poems, ed. Churton Collins, Vol. II, has 
an analysis of The Transformed Metamorphosis. 

3 Stanzas 43-50. 
* Stanzas 57-71. 



30 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Ovid J. M. has borrowed, indeed, the idea of the metamor- 
phosis, which he uses indiscriminately and with charming 
naivete for virgins either betrayed by lustful gods^ or 
escaping from lecherous pursuers,^ for wantons,^ gluttons,^ 
gossips,^ drunkards,^ lawyers, gamblers,^ gulls,^ dandies,^ 
murderers,^" Spaniards," Irish kerns, ^" witches,^^ friars and 
nuns,^^ popes,^^ and many others belonging to the land of 
fairies, mythical Egypt, classical Greece and Rome, or to 
the poet's own environment. Indeed, the great Elizabeth 
herself is found after death among the gods,^^ and the la- 
mented Prince Henry ^'^ becomes "aperpetuall Roy" ruling 
a heavenly kingdom and benificently aiding the English 
people. 

/. M. almost invariably, however, in contrast to Ovid, 

I Vol. I, Part I, fos. 8 verso ff. 

^ Vol. I, Part I, fos. 42 recto and verso. Lyaeus, changed to the 
grapevine, is honored by Bacchus. 

^ Vol. I, Part I. Bacchus turns wanton Sabella to a "tamarisk- 
tree," her husband, a sodomist, to an elder. 

* Vol. II, fol. 245 verso. 

" Vol. I, Part II, fol. 34 verso. 

« Vol. I, Part II, fol. 36 verso. 

■> Vol. II, fol. 18. 

8 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 90 recto. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 78. Mercury places the dandy, always chang- 
ing the fashions, into the inconstant moon. 

lo Vol. II, fol. 20. 

II Vol. I, Part II, fol. 134. 

12 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 19 to 21 verso. The evil kerns are changed to 
wolves. 

" Vol. I, Part I, fol. 80 verso. The Scottish witch is changed to a 
crocodile, her helpers to crabs. 

1^ Vol. I, Part I, fos. 11 and following. Cupid changes a wanton 
nun to a smoking altar, the monk to the fire on it. 

16 Vol. II, Book X. 

i« Vol. I, Part II, fol. 136 verso. 

" Vol. I, Part II, fol. 232 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 31 

uses the act of metamorphosis for punishment of sins against 
the moral code. In this way his subtitle, The Arraignment 
of Vice,^ is justified even when the author has been relating 
the gayest and most risque of fabliaux. But there are 
several exceptions to this practice. For example, the pure 
Matilda,^ wooed by the lecherous king Mempricius, even 
after the death of a devoted husband with whom she had 
fled disguised, refused to listen to the insidious blandish- 
ments of her ruler and the garrulous old bawd who panders 
to his lust. To escape her fate, by a clever ruse she jumps 
into a huge fire, made in honor of the king, and is changed 
by the kindly Juno into the Salamander and 

from hurt by fyre, was made for ever free.^ 

Another example of a kindly metamorphosis is found in the 
romantic tale of Arabianus and his Phoenicia.^ He was 
the ardent young king of a country near the "Pigmies 
land" who had become inflamed with love by seeing the 
picture of the daughter of the emperor of Germany. He 
wooed her with gifts and eventually won her. Later he 
was killed in single combat. The young grief-stricken 
wife flung herself into the funeral pyre and was metamor- 
phosed into the Phoenix. A more pleasing end of love 
awaited the faithful and virtuous shepherd and his wife,^ 
who, after a life which exemplified all the Arcadian virtues 
and which was filled with incidents recalling Penelope and 
her suitors, Joseph and Potiphar's wife, and the pirate 
adventures of the Spanish Main, were translated into two 
stately palms on opposite sides 

1 Vol. I, fol. 3. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 9 verso ff. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 16. 

* Vol. I, Part II, Book IX, to fol. 48 verso. 
6 Vol. II, Book II, fos. 21 verso ff. 



32 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

of Erymanthus sweete, a RyA^er wyde, 
and 

though a broad River did betweene them run 
their arms grewe over it, where still they meete 
w*^ kynde embraces they ech other greete.^ 

But J. M. not only borrows the idea of a metamorphosis 
from his master Ovid; he has also taken bodily many 
incidents from the Roman poet and at times parallels closely 
the Metamorphoses. Indeed, several of the tales in The Newe 
Metamorphosis center about an amorous god or goddess, 
and in theme, at least, these might take their place in the 
work of his prototype. Jupiter woos a not coy Venus in 
the guise of a sparrow,^ very much in the same fashion 
as in the semblance of a swan he betrays the innocent 
Leda. Neptune, having satisfied his desire with Amalina,^ 
the lovely daughter of Venus and the lusty helper of Vulcan, 
in order to prove to her the pleasures of each sex grants her 
the favor of becoming a man. This, of course, recalls 
Teresias * with his dual sex. The Grecian goatherd, Malisco, 
rapes his daughter Oechaia,^ and then, in order to conceal 
his crime, tears out her tongue and brutally maltreats her. 
He falls victim to his lust in much the same manner as 
Tereus,^ who attacks Philomela, the sister of his wife. 
The vivid picture of guilty love and fear in both stories 
has much in common. And as Tereus, in ignorance, eats 
the body of his young son, so a brutal father, driving his 
heir and the maiden to whom he had been betrothed to 

1 Vol. II, Book II, fol. 37. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 14 verso. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 50. 

* Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book III, Fable V. 
5 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 30 ff. 

8 Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book VI, Fables V and VI. Pet tie in his 
A Petite Pallace of Pettie His Pleasure, tells this for his second story. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 33 

suicide by his cruel treatment, feasts on the body which 
had been transformed into a carp.^ Again we find Leda, 
after she had transformed the country clowns into frogs 
because of their disrespect,^ travel-stained, foot-sore, and 
hungry, with a babe in each arm, reaching Germany.^ 
She comes to "The Hage" and 

... as she thus travailed 
of a greate Lady she did begge for breade 
who in ech arme when she a Babe did spie 
protested she w*^^ more then one did lye 
that they were not the children of one father 
she often cald her Whore, so much the rather 
because she bore two children at a birth 
nor spake she iestingly, nor yet in mirth 
but w**^ vile taunts & contumelious words 
w"^ her malignant spirit her affourds. 

Leda is angered at these undeserved gibes. She prays to 
her lover, Jove, to punish the virulent Margarita, and as 
a result 

she fell in travaile & therew*^ was tyred * 

the Midwife & the neighboures all aboute 

of her deUverance began to doubt 

greate prayers she had, at length was brought a bed 

and of Three hundred sixty five delivered 

of Boys & girls. 

The poet tells the reader this event occurred in the year 
1276 and that 

^ Vol. I, Part II, folio 7 verso. 

2 Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book IV, Fable III. 

» Vol. II, fos. 83 verso ff. 

* Vol. II, fol. 84 verso. 



34 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

neere unto Hage they buryed doe lye 
richly intombed for better memorie 
w**^ in the Monastery of S* Barnardo there 
who doubteth it, may see it plaine appeare 
upon the tombe, their pictures you may see.^ 

1 have quoted this surprising and eminently adequate 
punishment because it is an excellent example of how the 
author, with the amazing freedom of a typical Elizabethan, 
at times mingles classical figures and motifs with medieval 
legends, with metrical romances, with the ribald jests of 
the fabliau, with the witchcraft theme, and with the erotic 
and intricate intrigue of the novelle. 

Another striking example of this freedom of treatment we 
find in two stories of Bacchus, who, journeying among 
mortals, comes in the morning to a London house of ill 
fame. Here he meets ^ 

A crookt old Beldame . . . 

a foule mishapen-platter faced-blayne 

as black as Luce . . .' 

who tells him of her charming Puten, who was so ardently 
sought by the London gallant that 

White Fryers, then was left quite unfrequented 
Clarton-well,* Bancks-side & Pickt-hatch, repented 
that ever she so comonly was knowne 
for that their houses out of use were growne.^ 

^ Marie of France, in Le Fraine, has the same incident. A woman 
who upbraids another with the charge of unfaithfulness because of 
twins also bears twins. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 38 ff. 

^ Luce, the bawd, has already been mentioned. Cf. Vol. I, Part I, 
fol. 23 verso. 

^ Waldron, in the margin of the page, has written Clerkenwell. 
6 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 38 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 35 

And she calls : 

"Mai Newberry, come thou in Putens steade 

come forth Franck Twiste, my wench w*** yealowe haire 

for such encounters she will soon prepare 

Bes Lister come my prety nymble Trull 

And this same Bacchus, pictured here as a callow youth, 
a little later becomes the Ovidian god pursuing the nymph 
Lyaeus, 

. . . whom he followed fast 

she as fast, did fly away aghast 

even as the Harte flees by the grey hound chased 

So runs Lyaeus ^ . . . 

feare makes more speede then hope, yet he runs fast 
feare runs for life, hope runs for pleasures taste. 

The amorous Bacchus urges her to rest; he assures her of 
his consuming love and of her future abode among the 
gods, but his prayers are of no avail: 

Her armes and fingers were made branches then 
broade leaves grewe upon her fingers ten. 

She becomes the grapevine, and her lover exclaims: 

"Thou shalt be Bacchus love aUve & dead 
(said then the God) and henceforth from my head 
He shake the yoie garland & put on 
thy comfortable branches." 

The first adventure of the god and the fawning panderess 
is both Elizabethan in atmosphere and treatment — an 
original bit of realism ; his love and pursuit of the frightened 
nymph are close parallels of the graceful story of Apollo 
and Daphne, or of Pan and Syrinx. ^ 

There are many examples, however, in The Newe Meta- 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 42 ff. 

^ Ovid, The Metamorphoses, Book I, Fables XII and XV. 



36 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

morphosis of fabliaux in which we find the Olympian deities 
taking no part, or, at least, appearing in a perfunctory- 
fashion. These tales, it is true, are coarse, full of the broad 
wit and rough fun of the Jest Books, and they deal with the 
customary themes of the profligacy and pertinacity of 
women, the ignorant superstition of the illiterate, and the 
crassitude of the gull; yet, on the other hand, the best of 
these are so filled with a gay sensuality and a joy of life 
arising from the virile personality of the author that they 
show /. M. at his best as a story-teller. 

"The greatest masters of the farcical romances cannot 
measure swords with Chaucer,"^ and so it is fitting that 
J. M., reveling in this genre, should not only pay a small 
tribute to 

. . . S"" Jeffr'y Chaucer he 

the first life given to o'' poesie ^ , 

but also should borrow plan and incidents, and, with slight 
modifications, a story from the Canterbury Tales. 

A wrinkled and feeble Saturn woos a very youthful 
Lady May ^ in much the same manner as the amorous 
Januarie of Chaucer, in spite of Placebo's admonitions, 
prepares to marry in his dotage.* Like his immortal prede- 
cessor the absurd old man apes juvenility and anticipates 
with senile lust his marriage.^ Another time J. M. tells 
of a husband who was paid for the injury done to his honor 
by money which he had given to his wife, recalling the 
wily Daun John of the Shipman's Tale,^ and of a shrewish 

1 Ten Brink, Hist, of Eng. Lit., Vol. II, p. 154, English translation. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 90 verso. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 2 verso ff. This is given in Chap. VI. 

^ Chaucer's Works, Globe edition, The Merchant's Tale, pp. 203 ff. 
5 Vol. II, fos. 138 ff. 

^ Chaucer's Works, Globe edition, p. 84. Boccaccio, Decameron, 
Eighth Day, Novel I, has the same incident. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 37 

wife who ruled her husband and who boasted that 

"I'le never give consent to be inferior 
rie equall be at least, if not superior 

I scorne t' obey my husbands stoute comande 
I'le make him stande & pray w*''^ cap in hande 
I'le make the house too hotte for such an one." ^ 

She even surpasses the garrulous, whimsical, and immortal 
wife of Bath in that 

Six husbands too, before this she hath had 
this was the seaventh . . . ^ 

A godly Parson also is pictured. He is one of the reckless 
company of a ship of war who decide to relieve the tedium 
of their voyage by story-telling. The Shipmaster, 

... a corpulent fatte Swadde 
a bon-companion, a right Joviall lad,' 

voluble and contentious, had proposed 

"... a project rare 
come my brave hearts, y'" noble tales prepare 
se how w' are freinded w*^ swete pleasant gales 
now have at Chancers Canterburie Tales 
As I went to Canterbury to St. Beckets shryne." * 

This Parson had justly rebuked the coarseness of some of 
his companions and had discussed learnedly and at length 
of the commonwealth, lots profane or favored by God, 
and the planting of colonies in Virginia and Ireland. The 
arrogant Master, taking umbrage at some of his remarks, 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 88 ff. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 88 verso. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 129. 

* Vol. II, fol. 130 verso. 



38 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

exclaims that the Parson "lewdly" plays with bishops' 
orders and king's lawes, and remarks that 

"what er is don, you Puritans mislike 

though not w*'^ fists, yet w*^ y"" tongues yow strike." * 

This good Parson not only resembles the godly man 
found in the immortal pilgrimage to Canterbury, but Uke 
the latter, who is suspected of being a Lollard, ^ he bears 
the contumely of being called a Puritan. J. M. in creating 
this character certainly had Chaucer in mind. 

One tale, however, follows Chaucer even more closely. 
The immortal Reeve's Tale, in which is displayed a "talent 
for invention, characterization, and motives, and a comic 
power such as were never again attained in this class," ^ serves 
as the model. J. M. certainly does not possess the con- 
structive or analytic genius of his master, and his story of 
the superstitious Bolton,^ fearing a recurrence of the Flood, 
and of the wanton wife and the lusty miller, whose intrigue 
forms a realistic subplot, lacks the masterly presentation 
of its model. Still there is a serious attempt at characteriza- 
tion which, with the extravagant comedy intermingled 
with much rather flippant irony, leads to the cleverly man- 
aged and dramatic denouement and shows the author of 
The Newe Metamorphosis in his merriest vein.^ 

Indeed, it is in the fabliau that our author seems to be in 
his element. There are many tales of this type in the col- 
lection, some marred by an obscenity which is not rendered 
less objectionable, as in the case in Chaucer, by great art. 

1 Vol. II, fol. 137. 

2 Chaucer's Works, Globe edition, p. 79. 

3 Ten Brink, Hist, of Eng. Lit., Vol. II, p. 154, English translation. 
* Vol. II, fos. 51 verso ff. 

^ This tale is given almost entirely in the selections in Chap. VI. 
The story of the man who awaits the end of the world by flood is also 
told by Valentin Schumann, 1599. Cf. Root, The Poetry oj Chaucer, 
p. 174. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 39 

In fact, a rollicking and irrepressible Steward of a ship's 
company, who revels in drink and bawdy stories and re- 
joices in poking fun at his superiors, even offends by his 
wanton narrative the none too nice Master of his ship, who 
exclaims : 

"for bawdy tales, thou most compare w*** any 
sure Italy like thee affourds not many." ^ 

But The Newe Metamor-phosis does not only draw from 
Ovid, Chaucer, and fabliau material; the author, with that 
facile aptitude of his contemporaries of gleaning whatever 
might be of interest to them from all possible sources and 
of refurbishing their material in such a way as to make it 
difficult to recognize, although it may be full of haunting 
reminiscences, has levied contributions from a variety of 
material, both classical and romantic, historical and legen- 
dary, rehgious and profane. The result is that The Newe 
Metamorphosis is a perplexing potpourri of learning, super- 
stition, and popular motifs which must be disentangled in 
some degree in order to understand the manuscript. 

J. M., in addition to the influences mentioned, admires, 

. . . noble Spenser nowe of fairest fame 
whose glorious workes imortalize his name.^ 

Spenser not only furnished names to The Newe Metamorphosis 
and affected the plan of the poem in important ways,' 
but J. M. introduces a chronicle of British kings, com- 
mencing in place of Brute •* with Adam, God's 

. . . earthlie eldest son 
and this our lynage even from God doth come; ^ 

1 Vol. II, fol. 166 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 91. 
' Discussed on page 46. 

* Spenser, Fairy Queen, Book III, Canto III. 
5 Vol. II, fol. 249 verso. 



40 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

numerous conventional marriages of rivers, recalling the 
union of the Thames and Medway; * and a description and 
prophesy of the seer, Merlin,^ resembling in many details 
that of Spenser.^ He also tells a story of love and of 
tourneys,^ of a fair lady's gift to her knight, and of a 
snow-white palfrey, which, could take its place in metrical 
romance or among the adventures of The Faerie Queened 
Of course, J. M. lacks the exquisite melody and the delicate 
fancifulness and spirituality of Spenser; he possesses, 
however, a vigor and a certain sturdy directness which have 
an undeniable charm of their own. 

The pastoral also attracts the author of The Newe Meta- 
morphosis. The most characteristic shows the land of 
Arcadia,^ 

Arcadia is a country much renownd, 

with wooing shepherds and a lovely shepherdess. But the 
author also introduces in this story English shires, pirates, 
Turks, and the Roman Catholic Church. 

In this Arcadia a happy shepherd and his wife, in spite 
of prosperity, lived in a modest way and did not 

. . . like to Courtiers clad in silke and gold 

strout in puft pride, as full as they might holde. 

In addition to these fabliaux, romances, pastorals, and 
Ovidian tales, the manuscript affords the reader even a more 
varied choice. The Muse Thalia speaks of inventions;^ 
the chronicles furnish a stereotyped list of kings;* the defeat 

1 Spenser, Fairy Queen, Book IV, Canto XI. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 115 verso. 

' Spenser, Fairie Queen, Book III, Canto III. 
^ Vol. I, Part II, fol. 40 verso. 

* The author mentions in this story his "author," Vol. I, Part II, 
fos. 21 verso ff. 

6 Vol. II, Book, II, fos. 21 verso ff. 

^ Vol. I, fol. 69. 8 Vol. II, fol. 249 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 41 

of the Armada/ the sacking of Cadiz,- and the Gunpowder 
Plot ^ are examples of historical narrative ; semihistorical 
pirates and robbers/ the medicinal qualities of various 
mineral springs/ and even a "town and a gown" prank at 
Cambridge ^ help to lend variety to the narrative; and 
demonology is represented by Irish witches. He writes: 
... in Riddles & in Seeves they ride 
upon the face of Neptunes foaming browe 
(for not on foote, or horsebacke ride thej'' nowe) 
w*^ fiaggoas full of merry-makinge-wyne 
w"^ to more iollity make them enclyne 
that on the sea, they freely did carrouse 
they feare not drowning though the billowes souse 
their leaking vessels, making them to daunce 
nowe high, nowe lowe, as barbed horses pranse. 
That is a token sure a wytch to knowe 
they will not drowne though yo" in sea them throwe.'^ 

There are also in this manuscript many tales exempli- 
fying the Reformation attitude toward the Papacy and the 
Roman Catholic Church. Mars and Vulcan have sordid 
intrigues with wanton nuns,^ and dissolute priests urge 
chaste wives to dishonor.^ Again, the popes themselves, 
dignitaries of the Roman Church, and plotters, such 
as the soldier of fortune Fawkes and the crafty Garnet,^" 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 123. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 119. 
" Vol. II, Book X. 

* Vol. I, fol. 66, and Vol. II, fol. 32 verso. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 95 ff. 

6 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 30. 

^ Vol. I, fol. 77 verso. This story is taken from a pamphlet, Newes 
from Scotlajid, printed for William Wright. Cf. Pitcairn's Criminal 
Trials, Vol. I, pp. 213 ff. J. M. has followed his original very closely. 

8 Vol. II, fos. 46 ff. 

9 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 20 ff. 

10 Vol. I, Part II, Book X, and Vol. II, Book X. 



n 



42 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 



are arraigned at times with direct abuse; again, they play 
a part as the viUians in some story. Indeed, Garnet is 
given the place of Charon and Pope Sextus that of Cerberus 
in a hell which is peopled only by Roman Catholics.^ The 
author himself, possibly influenced by Virgil and Dante, 
visits the lower regions,^ where he sees all former popes 
and their supporters. 

The stories of intrigue — the narratives of unfaithful 
husbands, of giddy wives, and of determined lovers — fill 
many pages of The Newe Metamorphosis. This type of story 
was undoubtedly drawn from Italian and other continental 
sources or from their numerous Enghsh translations. In 
the second volume, where J. M. forgets more frequently 
his "patterne" Ovid, and the lustful Olympians appear 
only to effect a metamorphosis, fabliaux and novelettes 
appear in rapid succession ^ and often with happy effect. 
One exceptional story of intrigue — a melange of many 
motifs — leads us to an enchanted palace, pictured with the 
wealth of detail which we find in the House of Fame or in 
The Faerie Queene, and also to a burly negro succubus.* 

When the reader finishes The Newe Metamorphosis, he 
may well agree with the author ^ that in this diverse material 
one will find something to interest, something to please. 
He may weary of the stories, but the frequent digressions, 
the satire, sometimes conventional, often refreshing, and 
the homely reflections and quaint folklore keep his attention 
from flagging. 

Let us now turn from the typqs of stories found in this 
manuscript to some of the authorities J. M. mentions in 

1 Vol. II, fos. 211 ff. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 212 ff. 

3 Vol. II, Books VIII and IX. 
^ Vol. I, Part I, fos. 71 ff. 

^ Prologue. 



n 



THE MANUSCRIPT 43 



his work. In the Prologue, we have seen, he states that 
Ovid was the only one. 

that in this labor did encourage me; 

but in addition to the author of the Metamorphoses, his 
debt to others is undoubtedly large. Few of his stories 
are of his own invention. His originals could be discovered, 
possibly, in French fabliau,^ in classical and Oriental 
collections, in legendary folklore, in Italian novelle, and in 
the chronicles. It is true, however, that at times he draws 
from contemporary incidents. He takes what he wants 
freely, and he acknowledges no obligation. But when his 
source may add to his reputation of learning and to his 
genial tone of authority, J. M. mentions it with scholarly 
care, often referring in the margin to the page whence he 
drew his information. Plutarch ^ — both his Lives and his 
Morals — is frequently mentioned ; the former work espe- 
cially is repeatedly referred to.^ Pliny's Natural History ^ 
often helps to embellish the narrative. There are refer- 
ences also to Stowe,^ Purchas,^ Capgrave,^ Milles' The 
Treasurie of Auncient and Moderne Times, ^ Ortelius' Maps,^ 

^ Les Cent Nouvelles contains several stories with the same incidents. 
Boccaccio, Decameron, Tenth Day, Novel IV, was probably the source 
for J. M's story of the lover finding his mistress in a tomb. Cf. Vol. 
II, fos. 156-161 verso. Turbeville also tells this story in his Tragicall 
Tales. 

* Vol. I, Part II, fol. 48 verso, and Vol. II, fol. 105, are examples. 
' Examples are Vol. I, Part II, fos. 71 and 85 verso. 

* Vol. II, fol. 224 verso. 

» Vol. I, Part II, fol. 34; Vol. II, fol. 195. 

* Vol. II, fol. 117 verso. 
' Vol. I, Part II, fol. 64. 

* Vol. I, Part II, fol. 49. There are many references to this work. 
It was published 1613-1619. 

^ Vol. I, Part II, fol. 30. His Theatrum Orbis Terrarum was pub- 
Ushed 1570. 



44 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Ralegh/ Suetonius/ the Portuguese Acosta/ and Chau- 
cer.^ The conscientious tailor-chronicler and diligent maker 
of maps, John Speed, not only is used frequently as an 
authority,^ but he is paid an admiringly labored tribute. 
Cupid being banished from "his regall throne"^ comes to 
Faiery, 

a fertill countrie & a pleasant soile, 

and those who doubt the truth of this, 

The Theatre of Brittan will resolve straiteway 
w*'^ w*^ rare arte doth admirably expresse 
thinges of most moment leaving out the lesse 
whose Authors' fame shall never die though he 
w*^ Speede be turned to ashes speedilie. 

In addition J. M. shows a cosmopoUtan and much paraded 
knowledge of rehgious controversialists and writers on Church 
doctrines. He refers to Stapleton,^ Sucliffe,^ Bishop Jewell,^ 

1 Vol. II, fol. 228 verso, History of the World. 

2 Vol. II, 169 verso. 

» Vol. I, Part II, fol. 119, in the text. 

« Vol. II, fol. 220 verso. 

6 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 30 recto and verso. John Speed (1552?-1629). 
In 1598 he presented "divers maps" to the queen; in 1600 he gave 
some to the Merchant Taylors^ Company, of which he was a member; 
in 1607 he helped Camden with his Britannia, and in 1608-1610 
he made many new maps of England and Wales. He published, 
1611, Theatre of the Empire of Great Britain. His History of Great 
Britain continues the Theatre. Dictionary Nat. Biog., Vol. LIII, 
ed. 1898. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 3. 

^ Thomas Stapleton (1535-1598), a great Catholic controversialist 
and zealot. Vol. I, Part II, fol. 62. 

* Royal chaplain to Elizabeth and James. His Actes and Monu- 
7nents, 1562-1563. Vol. II, fol. 230. 

^ Vol. I, Part II, fol. 70 verso. Apologia pro Ecclesia anglicana, 
1562, Englished, 1564. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 45 

Fox/ Durantus,- the Bible,^ and to numerous other authors 
and works, both Enghsh and continental, on the mass, 
Church service, and saints.* 

The question next arises, Is The Newe Metamorphosis 
a helter-skelter collection of miscellaneous stories, having 
no connection except the almost invariable metamorphosis 
and the tendency to digression as regards satire? J. M., 
to quote from the Prologue again, candidly confessed that 
in "this book" he "only aymde" "for some strange things 
to write "^ and, 

even as a Flemish Gallemanfrey made 

of flesh, herbes, onyons, both of roote & blade, 

so shall the reader find in the pages to follow "some bloody 
warres," of Love's "soft charme," of "Countryes strange," 
of "rough satyrs" to help purge "the wicked world to lewd- 
nes most enclyn'd," of "a comicke-lover," of "deaths 
unkynde," of government, 

of Princes, Lords, of Peisants & of Clownes 
strange murderinge & massacres, & poisons fell,^ 

all intermingled to form An Iliade of Metamorphosis or an 
Arraignment of Vice. But he also attempted to provide 
a frame for this material; he did not plan to write a series 
of disconnected tales. 

J. M. had read widely. He knew Chaucer, Spenser, 
Ariosto,^ and undoubtedly most of the contemporary col- 
lections of stories so popular on the continent and in Eng- 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 74 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 62. 
" Vol. II, fol. 227. 

* Vol. II, fol. 53 verso. 

^ Vol. I, Part I, fol. 5 verso. 

* These quotations are from Vol. I, Part I, fos. 5 ff. 

^ He refers to the story "of fayre Genevra," Vol. II, fol. 142. 



46 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

land. Spenser, indeed, and The Faerie Queene influenced 
him in his plan. The prologues to the cantos of the great 
epic romance, its intricate background of minor episodes, and 
its crowded and often confused canvas clearly affected 
The Newe Metamorphosis. In addition, the great EHzabeth 
is called Gloriana,^ London, Troynovante,^ and England, 
glorious ''Fayrie" land,^ is the favored playground of the 
sportive gods. Still J. M. knew too well his limitations as 
a poet to attempt to model a work to be read only once and 
then cast aside ^ after a poem which was written to "emu- 
late," perhaps to "overgo," Orlando Furioso, acclaimed by 
the Renaissance as the heir to the epic glory of Homer and 
Vergil. Our author was a soldier, a man of the camps, a 
soldier-adventurer, taking part in the sacking of Cadiz. ^ 
He had in mind no subtle allegory, no colorful dream of 
chivalrous fairy knights. His plan, however, to connect 
his heterogeneous material was fairly ingenious and in 
harmony with the tone of his work. 

The first title-page shows that he intended to write only 
twelve books. But as years passed his material grew; 
his interests in a variety of affairs demanded expression; 
his lack of proportion, indeed of taste, led him always deeper 
into the Ehzabethan quagmire of proHx digression, and, 
in consequence, his original frame for his work, always frail, 
broke under the strain. Eventually he frankly discarded 
his plan. 

This original frame of The Newe Metamorphosis opens on 
Olympus. The pleasure-loving gods have wearied of sopo- 
rific heavenly joys, and so they plan to seek a new field in 

1 Example of this, Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8. 

2 Example of this, Vol. I, Part I, fol. 52 verso. 

3 An example, Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8. 
« Vol. I, fol. 6. 

8 Vol. II, Books VII, VIII. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 47 

which to exercise their prerogatives. They decide to visit 
"Fayrie," the lovely land of great Gloriana. /. M. tells us: 

Olympick Gods, set on a merry pinne 

sake out a place themselves to solace in 

they Fayrie chose as fit'st for recreation 

the tyme accordinge for it was rogation 

Rogation weeke, when schoole boyes walke the bounds 

w*^ Pedagoge & Priest, & doltish Clownes 

May month it hight, the merry month of May 

when ech one w*^ his Love doth May-games play 

then into Faiery did the Gods discende 

whose pleasantnesse w^^ Tempe might contende 

w**^ Egipt Lords atire they them disguise 

and many tricks, & many means devise 

howe best they might the Faiery Nymphs beguile: 

Goblins & Elves living in that riche soyle.^ 

But Mercury proposed to the complaisant merrymakers 
that they should draw lots for a king or a queen|for|this 
adventure. Cupid is successful, but the war godj^objects 
"by rage & furie led." He exclaims: 

"And thinkest thou Cupid, th' apish God of Love 

shall have preheminence o're the Gods above 

thou fitter art to be the Pigmies Kinge 

or friskinge Crickets, to sitte stiU & singe 

in chj^mny corners : come let's chuse a newe 

an able Kinge to rule a lusty crewe 

I am afraid it ever should be said 

that we were subiecte unto a boy-mayde." 

Mercury, because of his rash advice, is consigned to be poor, 
to "consorte" with "yon aple-squire," and Cupid is de- 
clared a fit companion for "Maya's sonne." Hermes is 
... to doe wonders thou (Cupid) to pubhsh it 
he to deceive & styhe to beguile 
and thou to prate, & cogge & lye the while 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 7. 



48 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

had yo" a Punck fit to consorte yo" nowe 
& old Menander at this instant too 
were nowe ahve, oh here were heavenly worke 
the Punck & Love & Mercury to perke. 
Uppon a stage with comick cheatinge tricks 
w''^ would the eyes of the spectato""® fixe 
and eke their eares unto attention drawe 
till on a sodaine (hke unto a flawe 
after a sylent calme) laughter breakes forth 
to prove his worke to be of wondrous worth 
certes you two may well goe walke together 
it is greate pitty yo" should ever sever.^ 

The lusty Mars, the impetuous soldier, now calls for new 
lots. The gods, each hoping to gain Cupid's robbed honor, 
consent, for the poet writes: 

A sweete thing 'tis, to swaye th' imperiall mace 
that every one may stoope & give him place 
though it be mixte w*^ troubles manifold 
greate care him weares, that weares a crowne of gold 
the meane life is from greife the most exempt 
and fewer cares doe dwell where is contempt 
where is not much to loose is noe greater feere 
hono"" & riches, loade a man w**^ care.^ 

Bacchus wins this contest, and he sends the two gods. 
Mercury and Cupid, who were ''secluded from the elec- 
tion,"^ through "Faiery Lande" in order 

to give the Nymphs & Elves to understande 
that Egipts Kinge desyred much to see 
their nymble sports & fyne agillitie 

would they but daine to come unto his tents 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 7 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 49 

(His tents were pitcht neere Isis ^ silver streames 
where great Gloriana w*^ her radiant beames 
made the trees fruitfull, & the earth increase 
and rules her land in bounty, ioye & peace, 
Longe may she live & rule, that rules so well 
whose many vertues all her subiects tell 
& when from us she's taken to the skie 
oh let her there governe immortahe.^ 

The foolish inhabitants rush to the tents of the disguised 
gods; 

but fewe there were that knewe of Love the toile 
for Cupid never did Fays harte beguile 
nor tread a steppe till now in Faiery lahde 
here Gloriana did alone command; 

and the mischievous Cupid boldly practices his wiles on 
both the gods and these "Fays." 

As Nymphs w**^ Shepherds did together dance 
one gave a sigh, an other cast a glaunce 
& still they singe this burden to their songe 
Aye mee I love, aye me I love too longe 
such uncouth passion they n'ere felt before 
they therfore as mishaps did them deplore 
yet were they loath to lose their pleasinge payne 
in greatest losse they found a sweetninge gaine.^ 

With this happy and fanciful introduction to the holiday- 
loving gods and the innocent people of Fairyland, we are 
brought to the first stories — the passion of Bacchus, of 
Jove, and of Apollo, caused by Cupid, for mortal nymphs. 

Mars' arrogant conduct in the casting of the lots leads to 
many perplexing compHcations. Mercury, consigned to 
beggary and thievery, craves revenge,^ and Cupid, at first 

1 Isis is the Thames. ^ Vol. I, Part I, fol. 9. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8. ■« Vol. I, Part I, fol. 8 verso. 



50 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the wanton boy, drives in sport the gods to many new loves; 
but later when Mars, aided by the other gods, plots against 
the amorous Jove ^ who has forgotten the duties of Olympus 
and his cherished protege, the god of Love, then, Cupid with 
purpose and in order to defend himself, shoots his arrows 
at all the deities. Even aged Saturn,^ hoary and feeble, 
falls victim. Juno, however, escapes these machinations ^ 
and goes to seek her erring spouse, whom she brings back 
to a desolate Olympus. Mars and his party make war on 
their lord,^ and for many days cannons roar, and both 
heaven and earth are laid waste. A parliament is finally 
called, and Cupid, much against the will of Jove, is banished 
for twelve years. 

But this sentence leads to further compHcations. Jupiter 
mourns for the playful boy. At his instigation Cupid shoots 
only "dull-pointed-Busbolts," so that all passion, both 
among gods and mortals, is quenched and 

to Venus sacrifice none had devotion. 

In spite of all remedies, 

noe man desyred once to touch his wife 
whom formerly he lov'd as dearest life. 
Then swarmed not as nowe the bastard broode 
whom every towne is fainte to feed w**^ foode 
people still dyed, none borne them to supply.^ 

Finally the gods implore Jupiter to punish Cupid for his 
insolence. Jove refuses this request. He censures them 
for their past obstinacy when 

"None pleaded then for Love, but all cry'd out 
banish that bastard . . ." ^ 

and speaks at length concerning their presumptuous con- 

1 Vol. I, Part I, Book III. ■• Vol. I, Part II, Book XII. 

» Vol. I, Part II, Book VII. ^ Vol. II, fol. 39 verso. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, Book XL « Vol. II, fol. 44. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 51 

duct in questioning his rule,^ When he consents to recall 
Cupid, both mortals and gods are overjoyed, ^ and the happy 
earth is again repeopled. 

Mars, however, still bears resentment. Driven by 
Cupid, he again leaves Olympus to woo a renegade nun. 
He not only wins this frail Adiana, but he also brings to a 
conclusion the principal frame of The Newe Metamorphosis. 

From this rivalry of the gods and the banishment of 
Cupid ^ unroll sometimes with only the slightest connection 
in the inconsequential manner of a lesser Ariosto, and 
again with a direct interruption, most of the tales of the 
first fifteen books of The Newe Metamorphosis. Jupiter 
may visit the filthy kerns •* in Ireland, the Spanish Armada ^ 
may sail for England, the queen may visit the Thames in 
which the city gamins are noisily playing,^ still some tangible 
connection can be traced to the gods' visit to Fairyland and 
their contention for leadership. 

Often we have a frame within a frame; a new occasion 
will be presented for additional tales. Mercury, visiting 
Jupiter in order to urge him to aid Cupid, is asked to tell 
to the ruler of Olympus and his temporary mistress some 
stories; ^ later, as the exiled beggar, hungry and foot-sore, 
he meets Apollo to whom he relates his experiences in Rome, 
dilating on the sins of the Pope and his followers.^ Cupid, 
again, after his banishment, furnishes by his adventures 

1 Vol. II, fol. 44. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 46. 

3 A banishment of Cupid was entered in the Stationers' Register by 
James Roberts, May 31, 1594. Cf. Arber, Vol. II, p. 308. This work 
may have suggested this plan. 

* Vol. I, Part I, Book III. 
6 Vol. I, Part II, Book XII. 
6 Vol. I, Part I, Book V. 
^ Vol. I, Part I, Book III. 
8 Vol. I, Part II, Book X. 



52 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

among mortals, the material for several tales of cruel land- 
lords, of clownish boys, of a shameless pander,^ and of his 
own passion. To give another example of a frame within 
a frame, nine fair daughters of the Rhine, boasting of their 
superiority to the Muses, with a greedy advocate as judge, 
enter in a story-telling contest with the nine daughters of 
Jove, in this way giving us eighteen stories. It is true 
that the daughters of the Rhine return to the Cupid and 
Mars theme; but the Muses, on the other hand, in a most 
unmuse-like fashion, prattle unconventionally of inventions 
and civiHzation, and also of witchcraft in Scotland, of 
fishermen in Kent, and of intrigues worthy of a place in 
Itahan novelle} Indeed, the author himself, once with a 
loquacious neighbor ^ and again with no external assistance,* 
breaks into the narrative and adds to the collection. 

In the second volume ^ J. M. practically abandons his 
original frame. He naively admits, after relating a tedious 
history of some rivers and their intriguing offspring, that 

this strange discourse did weary me to write. 

A friend, however, who has been absent for years, enters 
and readily consents to tell of his adventures in Egypt 
and elsewhere.^ The contention of Cupid and Mars is 
henceforth discarded. It is true that the metamorphosis 
idea persists, and the heavenly deities still figure occasion- 
ally in some of the stories; but the author now invents new 
framework as the occasion demands, often with a surprising 
evidence of originality and contagious humor. 

After this friend had finished his adventures with an 
attack against a mushroom "dapper squire" who had sold his 
timber in order to support his extravagances, another 

1 Vol. II, Books I and II. " Vol. II, Part II, Book XI. 

2 Vol. I, Books y and VI. ^ Vol. II, fos. 64 ff. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, Book VII. « Vol. II, fos. 64 ff. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 53 

companion, "that comes to visite me," ^ becomes the source 
of several tales which show J. M.'s powers at their best and 
which are linked by a happily executed, if daring plan, 
undoubtedly borrowed from the French. ^ This visitor 
declares that neither the market nor the mill, as most men 
say, are the favored places for gossip, but 

"... where one in travaile fall 
There's secrets, newes & lyes, the divell and all 
more matters are broacht there a hundred fold 
and there more tales & nipping lyes are told." ' 

And so the reader is introduced to the bedside of a "Lady 
of greate note" who "in travaile fell," and into the society of 
a withered midwife and her garrulous neighbors. It is an 
hilarious, free-spoken company, eating and drinking by 
the bedside of the mother and her son, and the stories that 
are told make this an orgy of bestiahty, relieved, it must be 
confessed, by that contagious vitahty and exuberant de- 
light in Ufe which soften so much that is offensive in our 
early literature. J. M. also has visualized this scene with 
real skill in characterization and with an admirable verve. 
The Hnks, especially, which connect the stories, show so much 
contagious gayety that the reader must regret that our 
author did not attempt more work of this character. 

J. M. himself furnishes the occasion for the stories fol- 
lowing the metamorphosis by Venus into butterflies of the 
most daring of these gossips. He has the "collick,"^ and, 
in consequence, visits the famous mineral springs of England 

1 Vol. II, fol. 72. 

2 This satire on women at childbirth can be found in Quinze Joyes 
de Mariage and in Middleton's A Chaste Maid in Cheapside, 1630, 
Act. II, Scene IV, f. In 1622 there appeared in France Les Caquets de 
I'Accouchee closely resembling this frame. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 72 verso. 
' Vol. II, Book VI. 



54 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

in order to find a remedy.^ As a result of his travels he 
adds several tales to The Newe Metamorphosis. An attack 
on an illiterate clergyman and on an old woman — and on 
quacks in general — who with one remedy kills many and 
cures very few, are the most interesting of these, because 
they contain many allusions to contemporary superstitions 
and manners which are of some interest and value to the 
student. 

When J. M. has visited the various springs and has 
returned to his home, all attempts at a plan are given up 
for a time. He frankly states at the beginning of Book VII 
that the reader will leave England and ''survey" 

if other nations nought affourd us may 
of matter worth the notinge . . . ^ 

But after a story concerning a faithless husband, a visiting 
friend, as an auditor, is again made use of to continue this 
work. J. M. first tells to this companion three stories 
exempHfying the abuse of love, of fighting, and of gambhng,^ 
and then he turns to a realistic description of the Cadiz 
expedition,^ 

Whilest o'' Eliza of blest memory 

did in this kingdoms hold the soveraigntie, 

of which he had been an eyewitness, one of the many gay 
young nobles and reckless spirits who had flocked to the 
standards of Essex, Howard, Ralegh, and Vere. His friend 
is^soon forgotten, and this assault on the power of Spain 
gives rise, in turn, to a new frame, and to many more tales, 
some of the happiest in the long collection. 

Chaucer's famous pilgrims undoubtedly suggested his 

1 Drayton's Poly-Olbian, 1613-1622, also describes these springs. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 111. 

3 Vol. II, fos. 114 ff. 
* Vol. II, fos. 119 ff. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 55 

new plan; in fact, J. M. mentions the Canterbury Tales} 
The reader is taken on board a ship returning to Plymouth,^ 
filled with its motley crew and its Spanish plunder. The 
Shipmaster, 

... a corpulent fatte Swadde 
a bon-companion, a right jovial lad 
unto the Captaine thus began to talke 
(a merry Mate, his tongue new oild did walke) ' 

asking that each one should ''some merrie storie tell." 
The taciturn Captain consents. Then judges are appointed, 
a prize offered, and the puritan Parson, who draws the 
shortest lot, is called on for the first story. The Shipmaster 
overflows with a rough but contagious bonhomie. He 
enrages the Parson with a rollicking tale of a drunken 
priest, Parson Darcie, who because he sometimes would 
"fly out for a purse "^ ended ingloriously by means of the 
hangman. Indeed, he interrupts the Parson's learned 
discourse on lots, on planting colonies, and on affairs of 
state, both so often and so rudely that a quarrel arises and 
peace is made only by means of the Captain. After some 
changes in the original plan, plainly shown by the addition 
of several characters and the insertion of many pages,^ the 
"Surgion" throws down the gauntlet to the more respectable 
members of the party by declaring, 

"there is no woman but she false will play." ® 

The Captain exclauns that is "a lewde conceite," and as 
a result of this divergence of views, many take sides and 
agree to relate incidents illustrating their viewpoint. 

Besides those previously mentioned, we have stories by 
the "Boteswayne," the "gunners Mate," a "Voluntarie 

1 Vol. II, fol. 130. * Vol. II, fol. 132 verso. 

- Vol. II, fol. 129. * There are 27 pages numbered 284. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 129. « Vol. II, fol. 138. 



56 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Gent," a "Gent," the Steward, who twits and shocks them 
all, the Gunner, the "Masters Mate," the "Cooke," the 
"Apprentice of London" that ran away from his master, 
the "Drmn," the "Clarke of the Bande," the "Purser," the 
"Trumpet," the "Liuetenante," and the "Anciente" who 
scarcely comes to the close of a romantic story of a noble 
maiden brought up by a forester, recalling in some of its 
incidents Fawnia ^ and her successors, when he cries : 
"... So, Ho, M'' I have 'spied lande 
the best deserver, due rewarde commande 
that was y'' promise, 'fore we goe ashore 
let th' best deserver have rewarde therfore." ^ 

After some dissension, a judge is chosen, 

the M'" drewe the lot, he cald for 's chayre 
one made of cloth of gold, most riche, most fayre 
w*^^ he from Cadiz brought, there down he sate 
like a fat Abot, being made Pope of late 
a scarlet Spanish gowne he dons likewise 
w*'^ drinking he made red his nose & eyes 
who putting on a face of gravetie 
seemed to give sentence w*^ integritie.* 

This judge gave a "Pistolet" to the "Cooke," and all the 
company, although they "were displeased and began to 
frette," did likewise. Indeed, the quick return to England 
had prevented many from sharing in the contest. 

The author slyly adds that the Cook, who had told of 
an unscrupulous youth skilled in astronomy and medicine, 
... hit the M' in the bawdy veyne 
he therefore thus did recompence his paine.^ 

The reader may marvel why many of the tales did not 
receive recognition if a "bawdy veyne" were a virtue to 
the Master. 

1 Greene, Pandosto. ^ Vol. II, fol. 194. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 192 verso. * Vol. II, fol. 194. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 57 

J. M. evidently relished being one of this company, and 
we must regret that he is not openly one of the contestants. 
Possibly, he may have been the '* Voluntarie Gent" or even 
the young gentleman who had joined the expedition. 

The last three books ^ of The Newe Metamorphosis are, as 
a whole, both more serious in tone and more bitterly 
ironical than the preceding. There is Httle attempt at any 
framework. 

J. M. commences Book X with the words: 

Unwillingly my sportful! muse forsakes 

her merry theme, & nowe a crosse course takes,^ 

and he confesses his lack of "abillitie," that "the taske" 
he undertakes "is too great for me," and that 
a sportefuU humor I much better love 
then dire events w''^ mischeifes-broode doth move. 

The author then tells of the Roman Catholic plots against 

James, "a glorious Sun," and 

. . . the Sol that warmes this Isle 
the Jove that doth it keepe from Papists spoile 
the Mars that fighteth to maintaine o"" seas 
the Mercury whose wit & \\'isdome shines 
w''^ all true heartes, to him in love combines 
to speake divinely. Our true Israels lighte 
for whom Jehovah from above doth fight, ^ 

and after further eulogy, he writes of the Gunpowder Plot, 
. . . the foulest facte, ere acted out of Hell 
w'^'^ to expresse, alas, I have no skill.'* 

. . . the most abhorred acte 
was ever dreamed on, much lesse don in facte 
the Powder Treason, or The Divell in th' vault 
the Divells worke in Hell, you well may call't. 

1 Vol. II, Books X, XI, XII. 3 Vol. II, fol. 197 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 194 verso. ' Vol. II, fol. 199. 



58 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

This is described with much historical accuracy, and the 
future punishment of Fawkes, Garnet, and the rest of "th' 
damned crue" is dilated on at great length. In fact, the 
author travels to hell in order to learn more of the execrated 
popes and their proteges. At the end of this book he writes, 

Nowe of the Catholique Church my leave I take 
for this whole booke, I've written for their sake.^ 

Throughout The Newe Metamorphosis there are constant 
attacks on the Roman Catholics, and Book X of the first 
volume consists mainly of a picture of the vices and profli- 
gacy of the "Roman crue," told by the exiled Mercury to 
Apollo. But J. M. had reserved his most bitter ridicule 
and virulent abuse for the instigators of the Gunpowder 
Plot and for the Jesuits. 

In the last two books of the manuscript there is again no 
attempt to connect what is written with the stories preceding. 
Here further invectives hurled at the Papacy, and certain 
favorite types, such as the usurer, the gull, and the drunk- 
ard, appear once more. The author is the speaker and he 
uses, in general, the tone of verse satire, English in atmos- 
phere and moral in purpose. He seems, in these books, 
to prefer some incident illustrating the folly or evil he assails. 
In Book XI he speaks of drunkenness, gluttony, and malice. 
In Book XII, after a long and tedious list of kings which 
reaches its climax in the conventional eulogy of James I, 
the death of the young Henry and the marriage of Princess 
Eliza,^ events of importance to the hated Romanists, call 
forth rather fulsome expressions of sorrow and patriotic 
fervor. Indeed, the latter event, attracting curious throngs 
from all England, furnishes the occasion for an ironical 
picture of some of those who were present, among whom 
were 

1 Vol. II, fol. 232 verso. 2 i^ 1612. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 59 

a proper tall red bearded Gentleman, 

his name I thinke was gallant Captaine Swan. 

a captain in tyme of peace is like a Nun 
there living, where Religion is undon 
sometymes I see them walk in Paules in buffe 
w**^ great gold lace, all poynted, mary muffe! 
much Uke to Panderesses when their game is over 
our Captaines oft from Calais come to Dover. 
Captaine, onne tjTiie it was a noble name 
but nowe growTie base, for they themselves defame 
by haunting Pickthach,^ White-fryers hot-houses," 

who lost his dinner because " a pigge came to the table," ^ 
a gallant Monsieur Roe, who made all effort to, 

... be apparreled most sumptuously 

to weare his beavo'' hat he will not faile 

and in the same his huge great-Ostridge-tayle 

his crjTnsen satten dublet on he puts 

in w'^'^ he straitly did imprison'd guts 

but breeches had he none that might it suit. 

an hundred goodly Oakes he straitewayes sold 

his scarlet breeches to lace thick w*^ gold 

so thicke the scarlet yo" could scarcely spie 

Oh brave breeche-case, adorned gorgeoushe 

the man in court yo" knowe is not regarded 

good clothes there are sildome tymes discarded 

let th' man be bad, so be his cloathes be brave 

nay though he be an obscene filthy knave 

he shall have entrance & be much respected 

when vertuous men in poore clothes are neglected; ^ 

^ Evidently Pickt-hatch, the quarter of London celebrated for 
thieves and prostitutes to which Shakspere refers in Merry Wives, II, 
2, 19. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 256 ff. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 257 verso. 



60 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the gorgeous lady who ruined her husband in order to dazzle 
the court; ^ and also the courtesan, the usurer, and several 
others. In these pictures, vigorous and coarsely graphic, 
we find the influence of the work of Donne, Hall, Marston, 
and the contemporary satirists. The three last books, 
indeed, are more closely allied to the school of conscious 
satire. There is little attempt at story-telling, but rather 
an effort to arraign vice. 

We see how in the course of the many years spent in 
composition the original plan of The Newe Metamorphosis 
suffered alteration and in time was frankly discarded. 
The author at first undoubtedly intended to give to a not 
too discriminating public a series of stories modeled more or 
less freely after Ovid. For these he invented, or possibly 
borrowed, the frame of an exiled Cupid taking revenge on 
the gods. When he tired of this, or when, as it is probable, 
his work had outgrown so frail a frame, he planned anew, 
with conspicuous success in two instances, his background 
for the bedside stories and those told on the return from 
Cadiz. But his many interests, and also an unflagging 
zeal and amazing facility in narration tended to obscure 
the main action of his work by complicated and quickly 
changing episodes and long digressions. He frankly aban- 
doned both frame and theme when either hampered him in 
his narrative or when he was roused by what he feared was 
sapping the manhood of his countrymen. As a result the 
work suffers in many ways. It is rambling and diffuse, 
but it assuredly gains from its very faults a vigorous and 
attractive spontaneity. 

The question may now rise — and it would be most 
natural — whether the author of The Newe Metamorphosis in 
its nearly one thousand closely written pages and consider- 
ably more than thirty thousand fines does not furnish some 
1 Vol. II, fol. 257 verso. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 61 

interesting and possibly important information concerning 
his contemporaries. It has already been stated that the 
chief value of the manuscript lies in its many allusions to 
manners and fashions, to its pictures of gulls, of gamblers, 
of drunkards, and to social and economic conditions in 
general. It also is of some significance to the student of 
history; for the Cadiz adventure is told by an eyewitness, 
and the Gunpowder Plot is dilated on at length by one who 
seems intimately affected. Then it must always be kept in 
mind that J. M. is a teller of stories of no mean abihty. 

But, on the other hand. The Newe Metamorphosis adds 
nothing to our knowledge concerning those giants in letters 
and affairs who made the reign of Elizabeth and her suc- 
cessor radiant. We have seen how the author refers with 
careful accuracy to Stow, Speed, Purchas, and other con- 
temporary writers of chronicles, travels, or religious works 
when by so doing he may gain authority and a reputation 
of learning; but to the field of belles-lettres he shows much 
of the characteristic reticence of his age. 

He speaks of his greatest contemporary in one careless line, 

it seems 'tis true that W. S. said,^ 

and he undoubtedly had Venus and Adonis in mind, since 
he parallels it with some closeness in one of his stories. - 
To Spenser he gives more honor. He writes of 

. . . noble Spenser nowe of fairest fame 
whose glorious workes immortalize his name,' 

and, as we have seen, he has borrowed many suggestions 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 51 verso. Miss Toulmin-Smith claims this 
refers to Shakspere because of the scansion as well as the initials. Cf. 
Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. I, p. 89. Waldron had assigned this to 
Shakspere in a marginal note. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 63 ff. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 91. 



62 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

from The Faerie Queene.^ Chaucer is spoken of several 
times,^ once, indeed, in a contemptuous manner when the 
author classes the Canterbury Tales and other "fables" 
of "fayned miracles" with the Golden Legends,' Vitas Pa- 
trium, Gesta Romanorum, all "Lyes made to blynde the 
simple ignorant."^ He makes happy mention of 

. . . kynde Kit Marlowe, if death not prevent-him, 
shall write her story, love such art hath lent-him,* 

and a certain flower, 

Starlight, cald for noble Sidney's sake 

Sidney the flower of matchlesse poesie 

who doubts thereof to mende it let him try 

the Poets glory & the soldiers pride 

who with blest soules in heaven doth nowe abide,* 

calls forth a eulogy of the author of Arcadia. Indeed, J. M. 
shows the influence of Sidney in many ways. He places 
one of his stories in Arcadia,^ and in a list of friends he 
mentions conspicuously Pyrocles and Musidorus. Another 
time, in speaking of poets, he enumerates several of his 
predecessors and contemporaries. Unfortunately, he pos- 
sessed neither the ability nor the fineness of taste of Drayton, 
otherwise he might have given the reader another Epistle 
to Reynolds? He writes: 

Surrey & Sidney, hono'' of o' age 

were both of them of noble parentage 

yet not their hono'' makes them live so longe 

as doth their poems & learned pleasinge songe 

1 Cf. Chap. I, pp. .39 ff. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 62 verso, 90 verso; Vol. II, fos. 130, 230 verso. 

3 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 62 verso. 

* Vol. I, Part I, fol. 39 verso, J. M. is speaking of Hero. 

6 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 57 verso. 

6 Vol. II, Book II. 

^ Drayton, Epistle to Henry Reynolds, Esquire. 



THE MANUSCRIPT 63 

before their time S'' Jeffr'y Chaucer he 
the first life giver to o' poesie 
Phaer & Twyne, Harvy, Gaskoyne, Goldinge 
Lydgate, Skelton, Grange, Googe & Fleminge 
Warner & Watson, France, Churchyarde, Whetston 
Monday, Lilly, Britton, Danyell, Draiton 
Chapman & Jonson, Withers auncient Tusser 
w[i]th the divine soule-pleasinge Silvester 
and noble Spencer . . . 

He continues by saying that these help 

. . . the world t' adorne 

w[i]thout the w[hi]ch, men live like folk forlorne 

though these doe labour much their curious lynes 

wChiUch art unto invention well combines 

and take much paines their Readers to delighte.^ 

In spite of the author's garrulity and the years spent in 
the composition of The Newe Metamorphosis, these few 
scattered hues give the only mention of the outstanding 
hterary figures of his time. This indifference, as it seems 
to the reader, would be inexphcable if it were not so typical 
of the period. J. M.'s chief concern is to dazzle his audience 
with his wealth of unusual knowledge, with his quaint 
folklore and worldly wisdom. He sees no reason why there 
should be an interest in the men of his day. 

J. M.'s references to the theater are even more scanty 
and imsatisfactory than these tributes to his predecessors 
and contemporaries. In the Prologue, he speaks of the 
"pubhque stage," of those who "fawne, flatter & dissemble," 
and resemble most " theatrians."^ A little later in a shrewd 
bit of observation he writes: 

Uppon a stage w*^ comick cheating tricks 
w*^^ would the eyes of the spectato""^ fixe 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 90 verso ff. ^ Vol. I, fol. 5 verso. 



64 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

and eke their eares unto attention drawe 
tell on a sodaine (like unto a flawe 
after a sylent calme) laughter breakes forth 
to prove his worke to be of wondrous worth. ^ 

Again we hear of a gull who mispronounces his words and 
squanders his money at the "Curtaine," of a spendthrift 
gambler who 

... at the Playhouse he tooke cheifest roomes 
and then did take on him the gentleman,^ 

and of the "painted Players" who had not lived "twenty 
yeare" and in spite of their youth showed consummate 
ability in their profession. These references are brief; 
they consist usually of only a few hastily written verses, 
but they at least make clear that the author was familiar 
with the life of London and had an intimate knowledge of 
the stage. 

After this survey of The Newe Metamorphosis, it can be 
said briefly in conclusion that this manuscript was written 
between the years 1600-1615; that it consists of a hetero- 
genous collection of stories, written to appeal to the popular 
fancy, stories, however, interspersed with much satire and 
frequent digressions concerning subjects of interest to the 
author; that the author provided an ingenious, if fanciful, 
framework for his material which he eventually discarded, 
inventing new frames as the occasion demanded; and that 
the value of the work lies in its popular appeal, in its genuine 
power in narration, and in its allusions to contemporary 
fashions and life. 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 7 verso. ^ Vol. II, fol. 117. 



CHAPTER II 
CRITICAL HISTORY OF THE MANUSCRIPT 

The diffuseness and great length of The Newe Metamor- 
phosis undoubtedly deterred from closer scrutiny those 
students of English hterature whose attention had been 
attracted to it. The critical history of the manuscript is 
brief; it is of importance, however, when the question of 
authorship is considered, for various conjectures have been 
made by those who have examined this work, concerning 
the identity of the author. 

Francis Godolphin Waldron,^ writer, actor, manager of 
theaters, and antiquarian, had this manuscript ^ in his 
possession. Possibly he intended to edit some parts of it. 
He has made frequent marginal notes in pencil, some of 
which are of interest, because of his knowledge of sixteenth- 
century manuscripts. Indeed, I can safely say that these 
notes and not the manuscript furnish the grounds for many 
of the statements of later scholars. Waldron has written 
at the side of J. M., gent.: "Que?^ — John Marston, Jervase 
Markham, James Martin, John Mason," evidently with the 
purpose of ascertaining the author. 

Joseph Haslewood,^ an insatiable collector of fugitive 
tracts and one of the founders and the early historian of the 

1 1744-1818. Cf. Dictionary Nat. Biog. He was both editor and 
bookseller. He issued in 1792 The Literary Museum, or Ancient and 
Modern Repository, a volume of some antiquarian importance, and the 
Shakspearean Miscellany (London 1802), a collection of scarce tracts. 

2 His initials, F. W. G., are found in Vol. I, Part I, fol. 11; Vol. II, 
fol. 234. 

3 Page 1, Book I. 
' 1769-1833. 

65 



66 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Roxburghe Club, follows Waldron in an interest in The Newe 
Metamorphosis. In his edition of Barnabee^s Journal,^ 
he established, to his satisfaction, the authorship. He 
quotes some lines from the manuscript describing Giggles- 
wick Spring in Yorkshire,^ and states dogmatically that the 
author is John Marston.^ And John Marston, the J. M. 
of the greatest prominence and interest at the time the 
manuscript was written, overshadowed for the remaining 
years of the century all other claimants. 

The authorities of the British Museum purchased the 
manuscript in 1844 from Payne and Fosse.* In their Sale 
Catalogue for 1843 under Manuscripts is the following de- 
scription: "No: 230. The Newe Metamorphosis, or A 
Feaste of Fancie, or Poeticall Legendes, written by /. M. gent. 
in 3 vol. Very neatly written, in the original vellum bind- 
ing. £15. 15s. 4to. 

"These volumes formerly belonged to Waldron, who has 
made many marginal notes. He conjectures the author's 
name to be either John Marston, Gervase Markham, or 
John Mason, but the author himself says. 

My name is French, to tell you in a word, 

Yet came not in with conquering William's sword. 

"It is doubtless the original autograph of a very curious 

1 First vol., 1817-1818; 2d vol., 1820. 
^ Vol. II, folio 95 verso. 
Yorke-shyre. "At Gigaleswick, there many springes doe rise 
that ebb & flowe in strange & wondrous wise 
when 'tis at highest, 'tis nyne ynches deepe 
at ebbe it doth but one ynche water keepe 
it ebbes & flowes, ech quarter of an houre." 
' Lowndes in his Bibliographer's Manual of English Literature also 
ascribes the poem as doubtful to Marston. He cites Haslewood. 

* Vol. I, No. 14,824, has on the flyleaf, "Purchased of Payne and 
Foss, 1844. (3 vols.)." 



CRITICAL HISTORY OF THE MANUSCRIPT 67 

poem. The title page is dated 1600; but a passage in Vol. I, 
p. 215, shows that that part was not written until after the 
death of Prince Henry in 1612." 

Mr. J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps, while he was editing the 
works of Marston, was the next to mention this "long, 
rambling poem." He doubts that it is Marston's, although 
"parts of it resemble in some degree his style." ^ The 
statement that the author's name is French, Mr. Halliwell- 
Phillipps declares, is a "condition inapplicable to that of 
Marston." ^ 

The Reverend Alexander B. Grosart ^ in his life of Marston 
wonders if the poet had a prior love in "his earlier and past 
days." Because of the "dainty and gracious verse-address 
* To his Mistress' ' ' in The Metamorphosis of Pigmalion's 
Image, and also because of the references to her in the poem 
itself,^ he says that "if other things were equal, I should have 

1 Works of John Marston, 1856, 3 vols., edited by J. 0. Halliwell, 
Vol. I, p. xix. 

* Halliwell-Phillipps, in his Life of Shakespere, 1848, p. 148, note, 
quotes a few lines from The Neive Metamorphosis, Vol. II, fol. 46, con- 
cerning boy players. This passage had been clearly marked by Wal- 
dron. 

"But howesoer men may a while dissemble 
their spightfull stomacks, they therein resemble 
but painted Players, trembling on the stage 
w*^^ beard & perywigge made fit for age 
who have not scarcely liv'd out twenty yeare 
as they I say doe loade w*'*' age appeare 
and yet are boyes when those are fane away." 
It is interesting to compare these lines with the epitaph which Ben 
Jonson wrote at the death of Salathiel Pavy, a child of Queen Eliza- 
beth's chapel, who although he died at the age of thirteen "yet three 
filled zodiacs had he been the stage's jewel." 

3 The Poems of John Marston (1598-1601), edited by Rev. Alexander 
B. Grosart, 1879, in Occasional Issues, Vol. XI, p. xxv, note. 

* The Metamorphosis of Pigmalions Image, pp. 7, 14. 



68 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

supposed the MS. poem in the British Museum, entitled 
The Newe Metamorphosis, or a Feaste of Fancie, and An 
Iliad of Metamorphosis or the Arraignment of Vice, written 
by J. M. gent., to be the production of Marston in fulfill- 
ment of his semi-promise 'to his Mistress.' But there are 
difficulties external and internal in assigning these MSS. 
to him." But Mr. Grosart does not make clear what these 
difficulties are. 

Mr. Bullen ^ was the next to mention this manuscript. 
He confesses that he has only "a superficial acquaintance 
with this poem," pleading its great length as his excuse. 
Like Mr. HaHiwell-Phinipps, he declares that Marston's 
name is not "French," and further he states it is a ''good old 
Shropshire name." He appreciates the importance of the 
poem, saying it is a "fine field for an editor; virgin soil, 
I warrant." 

Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith, an earnest scholar, was the 
last who examined the poem. She states that it is full of 
allusion "to the passing history and manners of those days" 
(Shakspere's) .^ She gives some of the introductory argu- 

1 The Works of John Marston, A. H. Bullen, 3 vols, 1887. Cf. Vol. I, 
pp. liv-lvi. 

2 Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. I, p. 89; Vol. II, pp. 480-488. Miss 
L. Toulmin-Smith, in claiming that certain lines refer to Shakspere, 
has followed a note made by Waldron. 

"who hath a lovinge wife & loves her not 
he is no better then a witlesse sotte 
let such have wives to recompense their merite 
even Menelaus forked face inherite. 
Is love in wives good, not in husbands too 
why doe men sweare they love then, when they wooe? 
it seems 'tis true that W. S. said 
when once he heard one courting of a Mayde 
Believe not thou Mens fayned flatteryes, 
Lovers will tell a bushell-full of Lyes." 
Cf. The Newe Metamorphosis, Vol. I, Part II, fol. 51 verso. 



CRITICAL HISTORY OF THE MANUSCRIPT 69 

ments of the various books, makes hasty mention of one or 
two of the tales, and decides that it may be doubted that 
either Marston or Markham could be the author. Her 
reasons for this statement are few and not conclusive. 
As both Marston and Markham had written before 1600, 
Miss Toulmin-Smith claims that neither of them would 
speak of his "infante Muse,"^ and that Markham "of whom 
it is said 'his thefts were innumerable' is surely excluded by 
the declaration, — 

' to filchinge lynes I am a deadly foe.' " 

Miss Toulmin-Smith closes the hst of commentators on 
The Newe Metamorphosis. The author has remained un- 
known. In the following chapter I shall try to point out 
those passages in the manuscript in which J. M. is auto- 
biographical or in which he clearly shows his tastes and 
characteristics. In this way the identity of J. M. gent 
may be estabhshed. 

1 Vol. I, fol. 5, Prologue. 

"Myne infante Muse, longe studieng what to wright 
at first resolv'd some bloody warres t'endighte." 



CHAPTER III 

J. M. GENT 

In a manuscript of the great length of The Newe Meta- 
morphosis, covering in time of composition so many years, 
it would seem that the most self-effacing of authors, even 
in a period in which authorship was not highly valued, 
would unmistakably betray his identity. This statement 
would seem especially true of a work of the rambling nature 
of the manuscript under consideration. But J. M. is not 
vainglorious; he labors under no delusion that he has 
produced something of exceptional merit. In his Prologue, 
when he writes that 

bookes of this nature being once perused 
are then cast by,^ 

he makes evident of how shght value he holds the pages to 
follow. He often complains with apparent sincerity that 
he has "noe Poets pleasing smoth-fyl'd veyne,"^ that this 
"taske is too greate for me,"^ and that his "arte" is "both 
rough & rude."* On the other hand, his narration of the 
"Powder Treason," he writes, 

. . . shall endure 
then stone or brasse of that I am full sure 
so longe as this fayre He shall traded be 
these Unas shall last even to eternitie.* 

The cause for this fame, however, arises not from the excel- 
lencies of his work, but from the abhorrence and terror 
occasioned by this conspiracy among his contemporaries 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 6. ^ Vol. II, fol. 194 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 6. * Vol. II, fol. 199 verso. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 199 verso. 
70 



J. M. GENT 71 

and their descendants; and, further, the author tells "a 
story not of fiction nowe," having "put on th' Historians 
graver gowne." 

This apparent modesty, especially in the author's time, 
is often conventional and feigned; but J. M.'s many pro- 
testations of lack of merit, culminating at the end of the 
work in the assertion. 

Some more accurate will shortly tread the pathe 
My rougher Muse already beaten hath 
my leave I here of Poetrie doe take,^ 

smacks more of honesty than the elaborate "Oblivioni 
Sacrum" of many of his contemporaries. 

But the author of The Newe Metamorphosis had little 
intention of remaining anonymous. Whatever fame or 
recompense should accrue from his work, he stood prepared 
to claim. His title-page says Written by J. M. gent, and a 
few pages later below The Epistle dedicatorie, having no 
connection with what has preceded or with what follows, 
and evidently jotted down as an afterthought or because 
of some transient impulse, comes the couplet which has 
caused so much confusion to the few who have inspected 
the manuscript, 

My name is Frenche to tell you in a worde 

but came not in w*^ conqueringe Williams sworde. 

And undoubtedly his curious readers, if the poem had been 
given to the public, would have had little difficulty in rec- 
ognizing who had presented to the world this "Feast of 
Fancie" and "Arraignment of Vice." For even in a day 
when authorship was none too rare, and greedy pubhshers 
were tempting the pleasure-bent Elizabethan with a fare 
not always nice, if of infinite and highly spiced variety, 
a J. M. gent, whose name was "Frenche," capable of writing 
1 Vol. II, fol. 268. 



72 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

a work of such amazing length, which shows the author a 
man of wide reading and of extended travel, a linguist and 
a keen observer of his fellow men, would have been readily 
known. He did not shun recognition. 

But J. M., even in the course of his stories, frequently 
takes us into his confidence; he tells the reader an inter- 
esting and illuminating bit of personal history. Again, 
he shows a penchant, at times a passion, often wearisome and 
frequently incongruous, for labored and prosaic explanations, 
for certain pursuits and avocations, and for homely maxims; 
indeed, in many significant ways he aids unconsciously 
in his identification. I shall point out the most character- 
istic of these. 

J. M. gent, informs us that he has been a soldier, serving 
in various campaigns and in several lands with the English 
forces. Indeed, he is most realistic in his pictures of the 
swaggering man of arms,^ of the martial wooer, and of the 
captain on leave in the London inns. In one of his auto- 
biographical digressions ^ he makes evident his own impul- 
sive ardor and his ready acceptance of the use of arms for 
redress, in his challenge to a traducer to fight a duel on the 
sands of Calais. These references to the profession of arms 
are constantly recurring. They are not the conventional 
borrowings from Italian novelle and other popular sources, 
found so often in the contemporary drama and literature, 
but they are portraits and incidents pictured by one who has 
served in camps. 

J. M. writes in one place that 

Yo" Martialists turne wanton oftentymes 
leaving the warres you study wanton rymes 
and turne ranke Poets, . . . ' 

^ Examples of his reference to soldiers and martial exploits are 
Vol. I, Part II, fos. 42, 112; 128; Vol. II, fol. 49. 
2 Cf. Chap. I, p. 6. 3 Vol. II, fol. 49. 



J. M. GENT 73 

and that he, a soldier, has written these "rough hewen lynes" ^ 
of the manuscript, because he has been inspired with love. 
Again, in his own narration of the Cadiz expedition, 

whilst o*" Eliza of blest memory 

did in this kingdome hold the soveraigntie,'^ 

there is even more positive and reUable confirmation of the 
author having followed the profession of arms. After 
remarking, 

I'le tell the what I in my travaille sawe,' 

he embarks on a vigorous description in the first person of 
that famous attempt to cripple Spain, when not only "Essex 
and Howard both Liuetenants were," but also Ralegh, 
the fighter Vere, and a galaxy of Elizabethan soldiers, cour- 
tiers, and adventurers formed a company distinguished in 
its brilliancy and bitter in its rivalries. J. M. not only 
tells of the number of ships saihng from Plymouth, "the 
first of June," of the "fower & twenty saile" brought by 
"th' United States," the ally of England for many years, 
of the bitter fight in the treacherous harbor of Cadiz; but 
he also describes how Essex with a small force lands "under 
the Blockhouse," and he finally quotes his "welcome saying" 
to the soldiers, using the first person: 

The spoile & sacking nowe of Cadiz towne 
(whose haughty stomacks are already downe) 
let be the Gaptaines meede, the Soldiers pay 
for that y' have bravely done Uke men this day 
except alone those clothes the Spaniards weare 
w"^ to lay hold on see yo" doe forbeare. 
Nowe swarme the English & the Duch likewise 
into the houses, (even as thicke as flyes 
in somers even after a raynie storme 
forshewing still the weather wilbe warme) 

1 Vol. II, fol. 13 verso. ^ Vol. II, fol. 119. » Vol. II, fol. 118 verso. 



74 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Then Gold & silver did we pill & sacke 
loaden w*^ treasure cast it on o' backe 
we ran abourd & straite returd againe 
in house no roome was by us searcht in vaine 
were th' Owners by, we askt not for the keyes 
but all flewe open as us best did please 
doors, lids of chists, cupbourds & cabbinets 
the Spaniards freely paid us all their debts 

here found we Bullion, there Rials of eighte 
here w*^ gold Ducats we o'' pockets freighte.^ 

The author, also an eyewitness, tells of the burning of a 
large part of the Spanish fleet by its admiral, Medina, in 
order to save the ships from falling into the conqueror's 
hands: 

the Duke of Medina, he did then comand 

that they the whole fieete then should sacrifice 

to angrie Vulcan, I saioe't iv^^ myne eyes, 

then the thicke clouds of stincking foggie smoake 

did many a Spaniard on the hatches choake 

howe the base slaves like paddocks flewe in th' aire 

when th' fyre & powder kist (oh loving payre). * 

He also relates how 

in th' Bishops Palace & the Nunarie 

some goods were found : bookes in the Library 

were valued at full out a thousand markes 

w"*^ we brought home for o"" learnd English Clarkes. ' 

And later we hear of how 

Faro we tooke & Lotha burnt w*^ fyre, * 
and of the homeward voyage in triumph to England. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 119 ff. ' Vol. II, fol. 122 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 121 verso. * Vol. II, fol. 128. 



J. M. GENT 75 

The author's pride in the Enghsh soldier and his ardent 
patriotism shine forth in the words he makes Medina, the 
Spanish leader, speak in spite of his defeat. He exclaims: 

They beate us once (quoth he) on th' English coast 

nowe on o"" owne they have us sore rib-roast 

let never Spaine w*^ England medle more 

for if we doe, 't will make o' Master poore 

rie rather goe to warre against the Turck 

& w*** lesse danger thinke to make fayre work. 

w*** English Marsis ^ I no more will deale 

who in most neede their valo"" not conceale 

but by the Kinges beard he's a noble foe 

that ransomeless did let so many goe 

they are indeede true Noble spirits sure 

since where they conquered th' are so honest pure 

that noe one rape was by them here comitted ^ 

nor noe foule fault for w'^'^ they can be twitted 

an honorable friende he sure would prove 

that being a foe expresseth so his love 

I cannot thinke but vertue is the cause 

they deale so justly, not restrained by lawes 

for Victors thus to curbe the rage of lust 

from very Justice needes pCre^ceede it must 

the English Armie's like a Comon weale 
where w*"^ uprightnes every man doth deale.' 

And so from the preceding excerpts J. M. shows that not 
only is he a gentleman with a French name, but also a 
soldier, fond of the profession of arms, rejoicing in feats of 

1 Probably derived from Mars and used because of the valor of the 
English. 

^ Ralegh in an undated letter writes that the English "spared all" 
at Cadiz, but that the "Flemmings" were cruel and hard. Cf. Steb- 
bings' Life of Ralegh. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 123. 



76 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

valor, exulting in the courage of his countrymen, and even 
reveUng in the sacking and pillaging of the vanquished.^ 

But Spain was not the only land J. M. had visited as a 
soldier. The Newe Metamorphosis abounds with references 
to Ireland and especially to Connaught; references which 
show an intimate knowledge of the country and a deep 
interest in its social problems. We not only read of the 
bawd following the camp in Ireland,^ of the numerous plots 
instigated there by the Romanists to undermine EHzabeth's 
power,^ of the crafty Jesuits who, he prays, 

. . . were all to Ireland confyned,* 

of Irish history with its legendary five kings and their 
realms, of "that dangerous narrow maine"^ and "roughness 
of the sea," with its "rocks and shelves,"^ separating Eng- 
land and Ireland, of the witches frequenting its "moory" 
lakes,^ but we are also told of the rude Irish kerns, 

fraught w*^ all vice, repleate w*^ villanye 
they still rebell & that most trecherously 
like brutish Indians, these wylde Irish live 
their quiet neighboures they delight to greive 
cruell & bloody, barbarous & rude 
dire vengeance at the heles hath them pursude 
they are the salvagest of all the nation 
amongst them once / made my pe[rf}gnnation.^ 

1 Sir Robert Naunton in his Fragmentia Regalia, Arber's Garner, 
Vol. VH, p. 89, says that the men had "great greediness of spoil." 

2 Vol. n, fol. 107 verso. ^ Vol. II, fos. 35 ff. 
4 Vol. II, fol. 222. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 107 verso. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 136 verso. 

^ Vol. I, Part I, fol. 76 verso. 

8 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 21 verso. 

Spenser in A View of the Present State of Ireland has Irenseus say: 
the " kearns " are thieves, murderers, swearers, who are wild, cruel 
and licentious. Cf. Spenser's Works, Globe edition, p. 640. 



J. M. GENT . 77 

He writes again : 

These Kernes were salvage people, wylde & rude 

they best esteemed, that most their hands imbrueed 

in blood of others; they no lawe obeyd 

nor were of any punishment afraide 

what any lusted, that he held for lawe 

others intents, they not regarde a strawe 

all kynde of synnes they dayly practiz'd there 

villaines to them resorted farre & neare 

they multiplyed for their immunitye 

the lewdest persons love impunitye 

that devilish vice of Luste was comon there 
in open streetes to acte it none do feare 
sinnes most unnaturall & horible to tell 
that had beginnings from the Prince of Hell 
man there w*"^ man, nay worser, man w*^ beasts 
thus they obeyd God Plutos blacke beheasts,^ 

And later he tells the reader the men from Connaught with 
their "shagged haire"^ are "more salvage"^ than men of 
other lands, and that 

The Irelanders, are salvage ignorant 

brutish & cruell every man will grant 

in contracts fraudelent, to theft inclynde 

what e're they say, yo" nere shall knowe their mynde 

to superstition very much addicted 

therefore w*^ war & strange disease afflicted.^ 

But it is Connaught that is conspicuously and intimately 
mentioned by J. M. Two of the stories of The Newe Meta- 
morphosis take place here,^ Erno lake, near Galway, is 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 20. » Vol. I, Part I, fol. 35 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 35. " Vol. I, Part II, fos. 58 ff. 

^ Vol. I, Part I, fos. 25 ff., Apollo carries his mistress to Connaught; 
Vol. I, Part I, fos. 34 verso ff., the king of Connaught weds Chryses, 
a^Grecian maiden. 



78 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

twice spoken of/ and the kerns, among whom the author 
once "made my pe[ri]grination/' ^ are of Connaught. 
And though these people are both bestial and treacherous, 
Apollo tells Clavina, whom he carries from England, that 
in "the kingdome of Connaughta" 

"... No hissinge serpent doth 'bide 
noe toade, nor spider, adder, nor yet snake 
noe stinginge venom'd thinge may there p[er]take 
the sweetes & pleasures of that happie soyle 
there they doe Uve wCi^thout or care or toyle 
they neither plant, nor sowe, nor till the ground 
nor w*^ a hedge their owne encompasse rounde 
all thinges are common, there they nothing wante 
they feele no penurie or pynchinge scante." ^ 

This Utopian picture of the land of the rude kerns scarcely 
is in keeping with what the author has spoken at other 
times of Ireland and its inhabitants. But at heart he loves 
this country. Like his 

. . . noble Spencer nowe of fairest fame,^ 

the beautiful island beckons to him in spite of its constant 
murmurings of discontent and active rebellion, and he even 
had planned to make his permanent home in "that riche 
lande." 

With much playful fancy he tells us of "Gallaway," 
the leading town of Connaught. Clavina had won all the 
kingdom with Apollo's aid by a clever trick, and then 

She built a city to her lasting fame 

and it Clavinia called by her name 

w*'^ tjone hath changed & the citie too 

strange unexpected thinges, this Tyme will doe 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 21, 27. ^ Vol. I, Part I, fol. 21 verso. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 25 ff. 

* Vol. I, Part II, fol. 91. Coli7i Clout Comes Home Again gives a 
delightful picture of Spenser in Ireland. 



J. M. GENT 79 

Galiva now they call't, we Gallaway 
Clavinas name's forgotten many a daye 
it Gan-away mee thinkes would better sound 
but reason oft is w*^ longe custome drownd 
after the old shape it doth still remaine 
the buildings, tower like it doth still reteyne 
they were Clavinians called here to fore 
no we Gallawayes (I thinke) for ever more.^ 

J. M.'s interest in Ireland and personal knowledge of 
that country led him to make it a large part of the Parson's 
discourse in a story-telling contest on the trip home from 
Cadiz. The Parson was a man of serious and devout mind; 
indeed, the boisterous Shipsmaster calls him a "Puritan." 
He feels ill at ease among the mirth-loving party lounging 
on the deck, and when he draws the first lot, after much 
hearty badinage on the part of the master of ceremonies, 
he proceeds to discuss the commonwealth and the planting 
of colonies. Of Ireland he speaks gravely and with author- 
ity. He strongly disapproves of the Virginia attempt at 
colonization, but in Ireland he knows many 

"... honest & vertuous 

that there abide, many religious 

the greater p[ar]te though are of people base 

noe furtherers of vertue in any case 

but that it is a noble business 

I not deny, but freely doe confesse 

for every day men 'even of qualitie 

& of good ranlc goe thither for supply. 

as th' place is rich if that it were secure 

my self to live there I could well indur.^ 

And for o"" people that to Ireland goe 

that enterprise I doe allowe also 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 27 verso. 

^ This couplet is written in the margin, presumably later, and with 
different ink. 



80 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

for them & us it can not be but good 

& certainly it might have sav'd much blood 

if it had bin attempted longe agone 

And so I say I not mislike a whitte 

our Irish busines & the planting it 

but this in them I mislike utterly 

that they run over nowe so frequently 

who are in debt & danger unto others 

thereby undoeing often tymes their brothers 

fathers & mothers, children, friends & foes 

forgetting credite over straite he goes 

to th' credito""^ most great wronge & undoeing 

nought can restreine them but they still are goeing 

ech day & houre, nor roughnes of the sea 

nor rocks & shelves can cause them here to stay 

that Banckrouts & such base shifting knaves 

should thither packe & dance on Neptunes waves 

& there mispende what they from others steale 

it is iniustice me thincks every deale 

and fit it were, some wholesome lawes were made 

them to restreine from their so coosininge trade 

they better doe deserve to dye therfore 

then pilfering theives who steale for they are poore 

w°^ take a sheepe, a hogge, a cowe, a horse 

through biting neede, being driven to 't by force. 

Neede eateth through stone walles the proverb saith 

but this their packing openly bewraith , . . 

But many good & godly men I hope 
are thither gon w"^ never love the Pope 
nor did their credito''® in that wise abuse 
but for good reasons to dwell there do chuse 
many of good note & right civill men 
where goes one such I wish that there were ten 
divines & laymen many I doe knowe 
rehgious, honest, w"** doe thither goe 



J. M. GENT 81 

some wanting meanes in their owne Native land 
' Some there to preache, to governe & comand 

and many of deserts who hope thereby 
for them & theirs to get a competencie." ^ 

I have quoted the Parson's words at length, for what he 
tells us is interesting historically. He shows a sincere 
interest in Ireland and an intimate acquaintance with its 
problems. The author, also, may have used him, the digni- 
fied and serious member of the ship's company, for his 
mouthpiece. 

And so we can safely conclude from this active and large 
interest of J. M. in Ireland, especially in Galway and Con- 
naught, and from the authority of the words spoken by the 
author in his own person that he, the soldier poet, had 
visited and served among the rude ''salvage" kerns by 
Erno Lake. He had followed his standard in Spain; he 
had fought in Ireland. 

J. M. not only visited Spain and Ireland; he also seems 
to know Flanders and the English camps stationed in that 
country. France is mentioned only casually; Italy and 
Rome ^ are arraigned as the home of the Pope, and as a 
sink of iniquity; but the "Flemish camps" and the "Lowe- 
countrie" are spoken of famiharly as if by one who had 
been a member of the English force sent to fight Spain in 
the Netherlands. Service under the great Vere was popular 
in the last decade of the sixteenth century. 

J. M. speaks of " beast-like-swilUng " of the "Duch- 
men."3 He tells us that "they true drunkards are," and 
in religion 

all kynde of sects & errors they will prove. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 135 verso ff. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, Book X. 

» Vol. I, Part II, fol. 58 verso. 



82 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

In speaking of the lottery, we read, 

the States of Flanders doe the same allowe.^ 

In another place a betrayed husband searches for his erring 
wife ''in the Lowe Countries," for 

he thought she had bin following the campe.^ 
Consequently, 

Dort, Hage, Ostende, & Amsterdam he sought. 

but only to continue his quest "amongst the puncks" in 
London and then among the soldiers in Ireland. In another 
place, he tells us that the tomb of the proud woman who 
had offended Latona is "neere unto Hage" and "w[i]thin 
the Monestary of St. Barnarde." Indeed we can see the 
pictures of the offending ones "upon the tomb," if we doubt 
him who knows the story to be true and who has seen this 
place, ^ near which "lyes th' English & Flemish campes."* 

This story, it is true, causes mirth and vulgar scurriUty 
among the Usteners, and there is much giddy and obscene 
repartee in which the Flemish army camps and the soldiers 
there stationed figure as principals.^ The author, however, 
does not seem to speak of these matters from report, but 
as an eyewitness and a participant. 

And so, though Flanders and the Netherlands do not play 
so conspicuous a part in the pages of the poem as either 
Spain or Ireland, and although the personal reference to 
these countries is more incidental and in the spirit of jest, 
still because we know that J. M. had served in Spain and 
the evidence is conclusive that he had been in Ireland, we 
may assume with reasonable certainty that he was also 
near "the Hage" and one of those English fighting under 
the greatest captain of those stirring times, Sir Francis 

1 Vol. II, fol. 134. 3 Vol. II, fol. 84 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 107 verso. * Vol. II, fol. 85. 

5 Vol. II, fos. 85 £f. 



J. M. GENT 83 

Vere.^ It was the fashion for the gallant, plumed young 
courtiers to serve a campaign under this leader.^ 

J. M., however, was not only a soldier campaigning in 
Spain, Ireland, and Flanders, using his experience for his 
work, but he was also a sincere opponent of the strong Roman 
CathoHc party in England and a bigoted enemy of the 
Papacy. He feared with many of his contemporaries the 
almost open efforts of those of his country who were Roman- 
ists to advance the interests of their faith. He himself 
was a man of strong religious convictions and of a simple 
piety. Indeed, he sympathized with many of the tenets of 
the so-called Puritans.^ 

The bigoted "Precisian," with his grotesque mannerisms 
and attitudinizing, was an attractive figure during this 
period to poke fun at and, indeed, until the stern necessity 
of the Civil War taught the graceful cavaHers that their 
stage Mulhgrubs,^ Tribulation Wholesomes,^ and Zeal-of 
the-Land Busys ^ were not at all times canting, whining 
hypocrites, but brave soldiers and earnest patriots. J. M. 
may have been a soldier-adventurer and a lover of loose 
tales smacking of the camp or the tavern, but he was also 
a militant Christian, sincere in his faith. He paid devout 
and simple homage to his God, defending the sanctity of 
the Sabbath and the purity of his faith; consequently he 

1 Jervase Markham, in his Epistles of War, 1622, speaks of Vere as 
"wonderfully skilled in entrenching." 

2 C. R. Markham, The Fighting Veres, p. 410. 

3 Thomas Fuller, in his Church History, traces the earliest use of the 
term "Puritan" to 1564. Archbishop Parker, in his letters, uses "Pre- 
cisian," "Puritan," "Presbyterian" synonymously for terms of re- 
proach. Cf. Enc. Brit, under "Puritanism." By 1600, when J. M. 
commenced his work, the term "Puritan" had come to have a definite 
meaning. Cf. Gardiner, Hist, of Eng., Vol. I, pp. 29 ff. 

* Marston, The Dutch Courtezan. 

* The Alchemist. ^ Bartholomew Fair. 



84 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

resented the unmerited abuse heaped on the Puritan. In 
fact, The Newe Metamorphosis has not only many references 
to the might and justice of 

Thou great all-seeing, & almighty God,^ 

which show the sincerity of the author's religious belief, 
but it also contains several passages which need consider- 
ation, in which the Puritan is defended and praised. 

J. M., in one place, contrasts the honest Puritan with 
a grasping and conscienceless advocate who, defending his 
iUicit gains, remarks, 

"Well said that worthy Prophet Machiavell 
let me get goods, & let them taike of Hell 
for Puritans & fooles that be precise 
w'^'* above all will seeme to be most wise 
they talke enough of their great Joves beheast 
but Machiavell his statutes please me best 
So, I may thrive let all men rot, decay." 

Again, in attacking the conspirators in the Gunpowder 
Plot, the author seems to associate himself clearly with the 
Puritans. He writes: 

the Puritans, they meant to charge w**^ th' facte 

then all the rest yet, a more damned acte 

to charge such as were innocent & free 

who never dealt in blacke conspiracie 

nay who had rather dye a thousand deathes 

then but conteine it in their myndes uneaths ^ 

when we, of yeares had nigh a Jubilee 

enioyed th' Gospell, then this treacherie 

was by these vassals of that damned-pit 

attempted first, & then they thriv'd in it 

next Saboth day at night, etc.^ 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 134 verso. 

2 Not easily, with difficulty; see 2 Henry VI, Act II, Sc. 4, 8. 

3 Vol. II, fos. 204 £f. 



J. M. GENT 85 

In another place, when he tells of the Romanist plots in 
Scotland against the young James, he declares that the 
king is 

The most religious Prince in Christendome 

cheife enemie to that apostate Rome 

Europe hath not a more rehgious Eange 

to Sathans kingdome, such destruction bringe. 

(To be a Puritan cold or Precise 

is the greatst wTonge that any can devise 

and by good reason for it is as much 

as if yo" should, a mans deere credite touche 

by sayinge he's an honest man & iuste 

one that upon his bare worde yo^ may truste 

that hateth swearing, whoringe, drincking, lyes 

and all kyndes villany yo*^ can devise 

may not a man thincke you ashamed be 

when they him praise for that his honestie?) 

and certainly the divell could foretell 

Kinge James his ofspringe must his kingdome quell.^ 

And the good Parson, also, who probably speaks for the 
author, on the return voyage from Cadiz is called a "med- 
dUng Puritan. "2 The honest man rephes, however, that, 

"for Kinge & countrie I doe daily pray 

to bless them both, & sende them health & peace." 

In addition to these direct references to the Puritan, 
showing the author's admiration for their conduct and 
profession of faith, there are many additional passages in 
the work, not conventional in tone, but spontaneous expres- 
sions of convictions, which make it evident that J. M. at 
least had strong sympathy for this sect and had little patience 
for spiritual laxity. A happy shepherd in Arcadia, in spite 
of wealth, did not "strout in puft pride" in many colored 
clothes imitating "ech foreign Nation," but in "sobrest 

1 Vol. I, fol. 78 verso. 2 Vol. II, fos. 137 fif. 



86 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

manner" with his hair "smooth & seemly short" ^; the 
gossip and indecent revehy of the tavern are attacked, 
where "unlawful games" are played "whiles Divine service" 
is held at church ;2 and again, while the author is at Malvern 
to drink the waters because of his "collick," he finds at 

Colwell, the towne on th' other syde the Hill 

that the people were ignorant 

of that whereof they scarcely sawe the wante 
I meane the truth & imortallitie 
the waye to blisse, the sacred deitie,^ 

and that they "doe profane the Saboth-there." He tells us: 

the neighboure townes, they on the Saboth feaste 

a Master of Misrule enterteynes ech guest 

^th (ji-ujns ^ Bagpipes & w*^ warlike Gunnes 

there as to May-games all the people runnes 

they greate provission make to enterteyne 

Ideoats, Asses, & ffooles, old & vaine 

and all this revelling crue to church must goe 

About Mid-service, they goe on a Rowe 

after the Priest, into the Church-ale-house 

(w*Mn the church yard standeth) to carouse 

not carouse say they, but breake their fast 

because their Calves-heads will noe longer last 

w''^, being done, to church they hye apace 

their latter service, serves for after grace 

then from the Church, the May-pole, they doe bringe 

and set it up (tis sure a heathnish thinge) 

the rest of th' day, in feasting & in dancing 

they spende, w"*^ should be in gods name advancing.* . 

The leader of this flock, to J. M.'s dismay, is illiterate, 
unfit to guide and teach his people.^ In fact, few of the 

1 Vol. II, fos. 26 ff. " Vol. II, fol. 96. 

= Vol. II, fol. 236 verso. » Vol. II, fol. 96 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 97 ff . J. M. tells a story of an illiterate clergyman. 



J. M. GENT 87 

clergy have taken a "degree in Schooles" and, in conse- 
sequence, hold them "that doe but bookish fooles." The 
author then writes with deep indignation: 

poore Sots are they that to the Universitie 
doe sende their sonnes, who might for certainety 
at Gramar-schoole learne Divinitie enough 
as for the Liberall Arts, why marry fough ' 
what needeth that, doe we not dayhe see 
that all Trades-men can teache Divinitie 
Lawyers, Hosiers, Hatters, Fustian-weavers 
Drapers, Black-smiths, drovers, & Logge cleavers 
will shortly come on too : ^ 

In close connection with the author's commendations of 
the Puritans and with his expressions of religious belief is 
his defense of the petulant and fiery Essex of whom the 
Puritans "had hoped well."^ Indeed it may be possible 
that /. M., serving with Essex in the Cadiz campaign and 
hearing Wright, the Puritan tutor of the popular leader, 
preach a sermon giving thanks for the victory after the 
coup de main,* may have been influenced by the convictions 
of his general. But his hearty praise in The Newe Meta- 
morphosis of Essex after his execution, and in spite of the 
fact that all mention of his name was sternly suppressed 
for some years after his death,^ not only reflects credit on 
the courage of the author if he planned publication at the 
time of composition, but it also aids in establishing his 
identity; for J. M. must have been in pecuharly close and 

^ Exclamation. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 97. 

3 Domestic Correspondence of Elizabeth, Vol. CCXXXVIII. (Roll's 
House.) 

* Devereux, W. B., Lives and Letters of the Devereux, Earls of Essex. 
" The Philotas of Daniel was suppressed in 1605 because it praised 
Essex. 



88 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

intimate relations with the young favorite of Ehzabeth to 
champion an unpopular cause. 

In speaking of plots against the state, he writes : 
let never Traytors death be longe neglected 

from such foule vermin, Lord us freedom give/ 

and then he adds: 

brave Essex had the sharpest punishment 
that law or justice could 'gainst him invent 
& quickly, too, he hv'd not longe to pleade, 
his best deserts, w"^ might stande some insteade 
yet he 'gainst State or queene did not conspire; 
let viperous villaines have deserved hyre, 
noe, they doe, often better scape by farre, 
then such to whome we most beholdinge are.^ 

The Newe Metamorphosis, however, gives us further 
evidence of the author's personal tastes and character in 
addition to his Puritan convictions and his admiration of 
Essex. No one could read the poem, even in the most 
cursory fashion, without arriving at the conclusion that the 
poet was familiar with the country; that he had enjoyed 
with all his buoyant vitality the pursuits of the country 
gentleman; that he not only delighted in fishing, hunting, 
and the out-of-door sports of his day, but that he also had 
more than an amateur knowledge of trees and plants and 
of their uses; and that he was familiar with the problems of 
the laborer and the farm. He speaks of rural matters with 
an intimate knowledge. He assumes an air of authority. 
An occasional line, a brief passage, even an illuminating 
word will lead the reader to this conclusion, even though 
in some instances positive confirmation may seem lacking. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 198 verso ff. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 199. This passage is written in the margin of the 
page. 



J. M. GENT 89 

J. M., it is true, never meets Nature in her rarely confiden- 
tial moods; he has not the poet's eye or the poet's heart 
to offer adoration on the shrine of a Mistress of entrancing 
variety. But a sturdy Englishman, he rejoices in a noble 
tree, he delights in placid rivers winding their course to 
the North Sea, he craves a life of action and the simple 
pleasures of the open. His work gains charm from this 
rural coloring and background. 

In this connection I can safely assert that /. M. was a 
fisherman. There are ever recurring references to "white 
seal'd" mullets; ^ to 

. . . Thornback, flare & of the dainty chaite; ^ 

to the pike with "gaping mouth "^ and the ruddy salmon 
which pursues the pike;* to 

. . . sweete white scaled, red fyned, river fishe 
and spotted Trouts; ^ 

to eels,^ hving in marshy grass, and to the many fish in the 
silver Thames. He writes, 

about the arches,^ Thames doth play bo-peeke 
w*^ any Troian or els Merry-Greeke 
and nymbly there she wyndes from arche to arche 
when Phebus w*^*^ his gleames so hot doth parche 
the liquid flood. There sportive fishes playe 
dance in brightest streames in fyne araye 
the silver smelt w*^^ so on ayre doth doate 
that oft he skippes into the rowinge boate 
the Troute so sweete, that dayntie is & rare 
who cunningly doth shift the flftshers ware 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 37. * Vol. I, Part I, fol. 56 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 82 verso. ^ Vol. II, fol. 23. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 56 verso. ^ Vol. II, fol. 67. 

^ London Bridge. 



90 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the Flounder w°^ below at ground doth feed 
the Barbie w°^ by th' bridges arches breede 
the salmon then w"^ water yields no fish ^ 
that's a more princely or more pleasing dish 
the dainty Mullet often there is taken 
& Porposes whose flesh is like to bacon 
there plenty is of Roches, bloakes ^ & eels 
w*''^ ffishermen catche in their nets & cweles ' 
and thousands more of spawninge fish do keeps 
w*^in the circuit of this pleasant deepe.^ 

We find in one place, again, a fairly detailed picture of 
the artificial pond made for the keeping of fish. May, 
the son of Mercury, had inherited an orchard in which 
its owner had made "faire stewes ^ for fish." Planning a 
"Lent feast to make," he found that a thief "had stolen 
nigh all his fish away." The following description is inter- 
esting, as it shows a knowledge of both fish and poachers: 

A pilfering Jack, that was a neighboure by 
to spoile Mays fish by many meanes did try 



when he at first did wth his angle sit 
he thought they more increast, the more they bit 
then would he wade & stir about the mudde 
that all the fish unto the sydes did scudde 
where he so tickled them about the gils 
that many tymes he bagges & basquets filles 
he then w*^ flue,® w*''^ casting-net a dragge 
went laden home as much as he could lagge, 

1 The following three couplets are in the margin. 

2 The word is difficult to decipher. 

* Evidently creels. 

* Vol. I, Part I, fol. 54. 

^ A small pond. Markham uses the word in Country Contentments, 
79, 1683 edition. 

6 A small fishnet. Cf. W. H. Turner, Select Rec. 1569. Oxford, 
329; "Nor laye any flewe or other nett." 



J. M. GENT 91 

but then the ponds were busht and staked soe 
as he nor angle nor yet net could throwe 
so that at last for very fell despighte 
he poisoned pondes & fish in dead of night. ^ 

This thief comes one evening 

unto a stewe that then was newely stored 

whose bottoms all with pavinge-bricke was floored.^ 

It is interesting to compare this picture of a small fish 
pond or stew with similar descriptions of Jervase Mark- 
ham/ the contemporary authority on country sports. 
We can then judge that the author of The Newe Metamor- 
phosis had a professional knowledge of the care of fish. 
Markham also speaks of the mud, of the depth of the water, 
and of sharp stakes to ward off thieves.'* 

Contrary to the example of Ovid, we often find in this 
work the metamorphosis of the characters into a fish or the 
enemies of fish. The thief is transformed into the otter,^ 

who still the fish in every place doth worme 
in pondes & rivers, 

and the guilty lover into the "Heme" which preys on jfish,^ 
An excellent example of the metamorphosis into a fish is 
where Cupid, wandering on the earth, changes some lovers, 
broken-hearted because of a cruel father, into carp, 

1 Vol. I, Part, II fol. 26 verso. 

^ Vol. 1, Part II, fol. 26 verso. This stew is used for bathing. 

^ Cheap and Good Husbandry, edition 1683, pp. 142 ff., and Country 
Contentments, pp. 78 ff. 

* Cheap and Good Husbandry, p. 144: "and if you stick, sharp stakes 
likewise by every side of the Pond, that will keep theeves from robbing 
them." 

^ Country Contentments, p. 77: "Amongst all the Ravenous Crea- 
tures which destroy fish, there is none more greedy than the Otter." 

^ Ibid., p. 77: "Next to the Otter, the Hern is a great devourer of 
fish." 



92 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

who therin spaw'nd & bred abundantly 

Thus the first Carpes in Faiery-land were bred 
of two true lovers, by freinds severed 
they came not out of France as many tell 
House-carpes came thence, (or els from deepest hell) 
where in more plenty they breede & increase 
then ponde-carpes doe, 'tis litle for o'' ease 
fewe, housen shall yo" fynde the w*'^ are free 
yet have I none, to me they dainty be.^ 

But it is in a playful passage, phrased most happily, 
addressed, as it seems, to an honest country lad, that we 
see that J. M. is not only an angler, but also, like every 
true angler, a philosopher. Cupid again has come to grief 
in his earthly wanderings and has transformed some jeering 
urchins, bathing in a stream, into Stanstickles, 

a fishe noe bigger then prety worme 

not all so bigge as is the tinye Mennowe 

w^'^in that brooke there are of them enowe 

and for they came ^ all arm'd wth staves & stakes 

they weare sharpe thornes upon their very backes.' 

The poet then interrupts his story of Cupid with the en- 
counter of rustic Martin and the "stanstickles." He writes, 

Martin one tyme when he first learnd to fish 

of Mennowes there did thinke to catch a dishe 

the first that bitte did prove a Stanstickle 

the w''*^ did so my novice ffisher tickle 

he being greedy to take't off his hooke 

it stucke in 's fingers w'^'^ did make him looke 

like one aghast : Snailes (quoth he) a Thornebacke 

by the blessed Roode, I have tan'e one: Alack 

good Martin thou hast noe good lucke 

neither in fishing nor in catching ducke 

^ Vol. II, fol. 7 verso. ^ The country lads. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 9. 



J. M. GENT 93 

fishing nor fleshing foUowe not thy hande 
foUowe thy trade then, that w*^** thou must stande 
ffishing's an Arte ^ for swearers most unfit 
they must have patience that do practize it 
fishing's an exercise & not a trade ^ 
such as use 't other wise it hath beggars made 
yo" have an honest trade then five therby 
yo^'le dye a beggar els; He tell yo" why 
yo" doe neglecte y'' business at home 
& after flesh as well as fish doe roame 
w'^'^ cannot be wpj^'^out expence of coyne 
whil'st thy poore wife doth sit at home & pine 
wants needefuU thinges for backe & belly fitte 
when like a foole thou vainely spendest it 
Martin amende & He forbeare to shame thee 
but if thou dost not, He hereafter name thee.^ 

In this passage speaks the true fisherman, one who appre- 
ciates the fascinations of anghng.^ 

/. M. also refers at times to hawking,^ to "pampered 
stalhons, kept for breede,"^ to the snaring of rabbits,'^ and 

^ Country Contentments, p. 60, Markham writes that a skillful angler 
ought "to be a general SchoUer"; p. 61: "Then he must be exceed- 
ing patient, and neither vex nor excruciate himself with losses or mis- 
chances"; p. 48: "But in this Art of Angling there is no such evil, 
no such sinful violence" (as "Theft, Blasphemy, or Bloodshed"). 

2 Ibid., p. 48. 

3 Vol. II, fos. 9 ff. 

■* The references and the metamorphosis to fish occur many times. 
A further example is the fish to be found at a feast, Vol. I, Part I, fol. 
59 verso, 

"... the goodly spotted troute 
the Googeon, Perch, & pleasant feeding Loache 
the Barbie, Mullet, & the floating Roache 
carpes, salmon." 
6 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 115. 
« Vol. I, Part I, fol. 20. 
■' Vol. II, Book VI. 



94 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

to the hunting hound. He knows horses, and he even gives 
a lively picture of the single combat so popular in the court 
entertainments during the author's lifetime. He writes 
of the spirited horses, restive under constraint: 

scarce could the royall Ryders hold their horse 

but ech of them would fayne be at his course 

they stampe, they snort, they blowe, they chanke the bitte 

they rise, they leape, they pawinge make a pitte 

they nowe gird forward wayting for the reyne 

that w*^ one hand they hardly them refreine 

so full of spirit were these gallant steedes 

that from their nostrils flames of iyre p[ro]cedes,^ 

and, as is natural, he lauds hunting. Indeed, he justifies 
the killing of game. He writes in much the same words as 
Markham that hunting is 

a lawful! pastime, therfore well he might 
a princely pleasure, most fit for a Kinge. 
for that it doth so swete contentment bringe 
as they the noisome hurtfull beasts do chase 
that corne & catle do devoure apace 
so they the vicious in the comonwealth 
daily hunt out & kill, for goodmens health 
thus in this pleasure, they do plainly showe 
that they the evill from the good doe knowe.^ 

J. M. also shows his knowledge of rural England and his 
personal inclinations in his real love for trees and flowers. 
He possesses a fund of quaint lore, gained from his reading 
and his observations, which at times lends a homely charm 
to his description. He attacks with honest indignation 
the spendthrifts who sell "an hundred goodly Oakes " ^ for 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 42 verso. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 17 verso. Markham in Country Contentments, 
p. 3, speaks of hunting " as being the most royal for the stateliness 
thereof " of all recreations. ^ Vol. II, fol. 257 verso. 



J. M. GENT 95 

their idle pleasures. To fell trees, he writes, 

... is a practice w^^ o'' spendthrifts use 
and 'gainst the comonweale a greate abuse 
he that intends his land to sell away- 
first 'mongst his tymber he doth make a fray 
downe in one yeare w°^ have been hundreds growing 
they care to fell, let others care for sowinge 
they first sell wood & tymber, then the clods 
& thus they make most cruell biting rods 
wherby not only they themselves are whipt 
but th' comonwealth by them is lewdly ^ stript 
wasted and stript of tymber & of fuell,^ 

and the "Boxe, the bane of hony bees/'^ "Holme, Ewe & 
Cypresse tree," the "shady Beeche, from showers a goodly 
cloake," and — 

the tall straite Ashe, the Elme for water worke 
Crabtree for Millers, Maple where squirrels lurke 
the greate-growne Popler, w*^ the Aspen tree 
the green-spred Laurell still from thonder free 
the goodly Chesnut, & the Mistle sweete, 

together with the "sky-kissing Pine, faire Sicamore . . . 
the makedart Cornell,"^ all suffer from irreverent hands. 
Again, there is frequent mention of flowers by one who 
knows them. In speaking of an exquisite garden arranged 
in four squares the author tells us that 

The third Square was of sweete & fayre died flowers 
the Marygold that turneth dayes & howers 
inclyning still its head unto the Sun 
so longe untill his course be fully run 

1 "rudely" is crossed out; the word written above is difficult to 
decipher. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 70. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 62 verso, and Vol. I, Part I, fol. 59. 
* Vol. II, fos. 69 verso ff. 



96 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

in tufts there grewe the Purple velvet-flower 
and fast by that the spotted Gilly-flower 
March-violets, Goates beard & the Pincke 
the Globe-Gee, & Carnation (I thinke) 
Anemonyes, both red & white & blue 
single & double & of many hue 

the Bulbus- Violet, & Convallium sweete 
th' Emperiall-Lilly, w"*^ doth erly greete 
the Mountaine-lilly & the Byzantine 
the Alexandrine & Narcissus fyne 
still-bleeding Hyacinthus there did stande 
unawares killed by ApoUos hande 
the Fritularia, speckled like a snake 
Starlight, cald so for noble Sidneys sake 

diverse coloured Tulips stoode thereby 

flambant, strawe colored, white as yvorye, 

coloured like cloth of gold, grewe ver'gd w**^ red 

and some were yealowe w*** greene overspread 

the purple Pagle likewise there did growe 

the glorious flower of the Sun also 

the Crowne-Imperiall w*^ his perly droppes 

the double white Gee, & the sweete Cowesloppes. 

This garden had walks bordered by the rose, 

some red, some white, some of the damaske sweete 
of every kynde & sorte, as was most meete 
for such a God; the double yealowe rose 
& double muske, so pleasing to the nose 
the speckled rose, a plant both newe & rare 
was there preserved both w**^ cost & care 
the Province, Synamon & velvet-blacke 
and to be breife, not any kynde did lacke.^ 

1 Vol. I, Fart I, fos. 57 verso £f. 



J. M. GENT 97 

The poet of The Newe Metamorphosis, however, displays 
most markedly and repeatedly a characteristic so distinctive 
that it is of great value in helping to determine the authorship 
of the manuscript. We have seen in many of the quotations 
given in the preceding pages a fondness, amounting almost 
to tediousness and often detrimental to his work, for ex- 
plaining the material uses of trees, flowers, fish, herbs, and 
other things. He tells us the "Boxe is the bane of Honey 
bees," the ehn is good for "water-worke," the crab tree for 
millers ; or again the "stewe," which is used for swimming 
as well as for fish, must have sharp stakes and bushes to 
ward off thieves, the first carps are bred in England, and 
numerous other matters of this kind. J. M. is practical. 
He confesses he is a "poore poet," but he also makes it 
clear that he had much useful, if quaint information, which 
he rehshes giving to his reader. He displays this knowledge 
con amove and with no thought of its lack of poetic charm. 

Instances of this are most numerous. In a garden are 
not only all varieties of flowers, but also the serviceable 

onyons & Leekes, Parsnips & Carrots sweete 
all kynde of Pulse, Cabbage as white as sheete 
Cucombers, Melons, & the Turnippe round 
both red & white. 

He continues, in a most characteristic vein, concerning 
"Herbes for phisicke," including 

Vervaine, the w*^*^ doth the Gangrena heale 
Angellica, w^^ eaten every meale 
is found to be the plagues best medicine 
Folefoote, Germander & Thistle carline 
Saxifrage, Silvergrasse, w'"'^ the collick cure 
and Bettony for most diseases sure 
Acanthus there, & Divels-bitte thereby 
so cald, as if the divell did envye 



98 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the wondrous good, this herbe to men doth bringe 
and therfore bytes it, sure a wondrous thinge 
Sowe-bread & Dittany, of such excellent worth 
that neither of them, neede my setting forth. ^ 

As we see, he gives much information belonging to the 
province of the physician. He tells the secrets of household 
physic. 

This tendency is further illustrated in those stories con- 
cerning unfaithfulness and the world-old triangle in mar- 
riage. He knows many provocatives for lust, 

as Sperage, Rocket, Basill, Anisseede 

Saffron, Satyrion that same comon weede 

Scolymus, Asphodell, & Tricoccon 

Aristolochia, Erithranicon 

all kyndes of Bulbus, rootes & Clematis 

Orchis, Caucalis, & Cynosorchis 

w*^ diverse more, not needefull much to name 

w^^ unto lust do man so much enflame.^ 

And "fresh-water creifish,"^ prawns, lobsters,* oysters, and 
mushrooms, 

^eh gi-Q^gg ^qi \yy ingendering nor seede 

nor roote nor plante but (as she ^ hath decreed) 

even of the fatnes of the fruitful! soile 

in pasture grounds where horse w*** ploughs ner toile,^ 

artichokes,^ parsnips,* and even the potato, possessing the 
"vertue ... to stir up venerye,"^ are additional means to 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 57. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 58 verso. There are several passages similar to 
this. Cf. Vol. II, fol. 38 verso. 

3 Vol. II, fol. 38 verso. 

* Vol. II, fol. 176 verso. 

^ Juno. 

6 Vol. II, fol. 140 verso. « Vol. II, fol. 150 verso. 

-> Vol. II, fol. 171. 9 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 61. 



J. M. GENT 99 

excite passion. He even informs us that the three months 
following May "faire Venus is forbid to play." ^ 

In addition to begin an horticultural expert with an ex- 
tensive knowledge of drugs produced from plant life, J. M. 
even amazes and, at times, wearies the reader with a wealth 
of culinary details usually found in a pamphlet of recipes of 
an English housewife. Several feasts are described in 
detail, and we learn of 

Pies made of Marrowe mixt [with] Oysters sweete 
Doucets & Cocks stones w**^ the former meete, 

of "Eringoes candied fyne," of oysters "dressed in sondry 
wayes," of "Duck eggs hard roast," of "fat Caviare," of 
a "sallet" composed of "lettuce, onyons, Leekes,"^ and, 
indeed, of many "other dishes more."* Our author, in 
truth, appears the gourmand. In spite of his praise of 
simple life ^ and his caustic comments on the vice of glut- 
tony,^ he delights in the good things of the table and he 
knows their ingredients. 

The passages and references in The Newe Metamorphosis 
to farms and farm laborers are both economically interest- 
ing and further confirm the assertion that J. M. knew and 
enjoyed the country. They also show the same inherent 
tendency to give detailed information. J. M. tells the 
reader that 

^ Vol. I, Part II, fol. 10. Markham, in his Farewell to Husbandry, 
1684 edition, pp. 123 ff., WTites that in June "for your health" you 
must use "chast thoughts," in July you must not "meddle with Wine, 
Women, nor no wantonness," and in August you must "shun feasts," 
etc. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 61. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fol. 59 verso; Vol. II, fol. 32. 
* Vol. II, Book II, is a good example: 

« Cf. Vol. II, Book XI. 



100 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

. . . Hyndes come whistling in the graine 
but er they leave, they eate it out againe 
his neighboures catle eate up his spare leaze ^ 
his horse devoure his yearely croppe of pease, 
his Shepeheard lets his sheepe be stole away 
their nightly folding makes them easyer prey 
his servants spend in possets & in feasts 
more then he doth on his invited guests 
his maydes do fleece his mylke-pans in the night 
so that he often is inforc'te to fight 



He can not keepe his corne for Rats & Mice 
yet likes he not to sell at this base price 



and it is like, for that, S* Swythens day 

(if it be true that auncients of it say) 

did rayne apace, & will for forty more 

succeeding that, (all w*^^ will breede no store) 

yea many more it may doe afterwarde 

for twenty dayes past it hath rayned harde 

all corne is laid flat & is easely set 

but thinne & weake is most of all o"" wheate 

Rye is all gappie ^ barly that is strucke 

that is burnt up w*^ May-wede, I did mucke ' 

these following wets, ye se have bred a flood 

and choaked all the grasse w*^ durt & mud 

Haye-cocks are drownd, & grass that laye in swathes 

is swept away into the watery caves 

the grasse that stands must nedes a murron brede 

upon those catle w^^ theron doe feede.^ 

^ "Lease" used in connection with harvesting can mean "pastur- 
age." Cf. Murray, New Eng. Diet., 6, Part I, p. 157. 
2 Thin, weak. 
^ To use for dung. 
^ Vol. I, Part II, fos. 7 verso ff. 



J. M. GENT 101 

And again he writes: 

if catle chance to come in neighboures ground 
they teache them sone the way that leads to pounde 
if from the beaten path one hap to stray 
action of trespasse they will have straite waye.^ 

But it is not only the landlord who is encompassed with 
troubles. The poor girls of the parish are called by their 
employers "drat & whore," ^ the working man suffers in- 
dignities and brutal treatment except in harvest time, 
when the great landlord gives 

. . . kynde speeche to all & none refuse 

the poorest in the towne may then be bold 

(if a good harvest-man, men doe him hold) 

to speake as freely, as a better man 

though scarce w[i]thout releife he Hven can 

especially in tickle ^ rayny season 

or when as harvest men be some-what geason * 

but all the rest of th' yeare he may goe by 

he hath noe neede then of his husbandry 

then doth he look aloft, will scarcely knowe him 

nor any kyndnes, not in lookes will showe him. ^ 

In another place, in speaking of the "Daneworte," or the 
" Blood worte," the author tells us that 

upon my ground in too much plenty growes 
this stronge ranke herbe,® 

showing the reader that J. M. himself probably cultivated 
land. Indeed, in a description of barley in the early spring 
he evinces an appreciation both of the anxieties of the 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 92. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 84. 

' Easy, uncertain, unreliable. 

* Few, scanty. 

» Vol. I, Part II, fol. 99 verso. 

6 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 101. 



102 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

farmer and of the grain itself that further strengthens 
this conjecture. He writes: 

as Barly feilds in glorious springe of yeare 
w''^ chap & gape w**^ drought, & cal for rayne 
w*^^ when then do from the blacke cloudes obteyne 
it presently comes wrigling forth the mould 
& lookes more cherely by a thousand fold 
thriveth itself & ioyes the Owners harte 

the sighte wherof doth make his harte revive 
after 's longe toyle he hopeth then to thrive 
forgets his sweate in digginge 't out the ground.^ 

It is not only in this love of the out-of-doors and of 
prosaic details that the author of The Newe Metamorphosis 
reveals himself; as we have seen before, he delights in 
parading his learning. He possesses a wide and varied 
knowledge gained by reading books in French, Italian, 
Latin, Spanish, and, of course, in his own tongue, and when- 
ever it may add to his pose of authority or impress his 
audience with his fund of information, he mentions his 
sources and quotes laboriously with scholarly pretension. 
The manuscript has many marginal references to former 
works on the Church, to the chronicles, and to classical and 
continental authorities. At times entire pages are devoted 
to giving lists of Latin works or unusual names for the 
pagan divinities. J. M. rarely speaks of his contemporaries; 
he devotes his attention to those who have gained respect 
and weight, because of age or lack of access. It is true he 
is not alone in this respect; the Elizabethan rarely hesi- 
tated to display his wares for his own advantage; modesty 
seldom deterred him in seeking the favor of a patron or 
lauding the merits of the work of his pen. But J. M. is 
especially ingenious. He has a subtle appreciation of every 
1 Vol. II, fol. 45. 



J. M. GENT 103 

means to advancement; he is an adept in attracting atten- 
tion to his merits. 

In connection with the author's extensive learning, the 
question naturally follows whether or not he had been at 
one of the great universities. The manuscript does not aid 
us materially in this. J. M. refers to Cambridge as 

England's most famous University 
where learned arts do flourish & increase,* 

and he speaks of ''Trinity, St. Johns and Queens chappell" 
colleges. On the other hand, as there is no mention of 
Oxford, it is safe to conclude that he either had been a 
student at Cambridge, the center of intellectual puritanism, 
or had gained a Hberal education in other ways. Certainly, 
it seems, no Oxford man was the author of The Newe Meta- 
morphosis. 

The fact that J. M. states frequently in his work that he 
is a poet, though only a " poore poet," and a writer of " course 
Ryme"2 is also of assistance in his identification. It would 
appear from these statements that The Newe Metamorphosis 
was not his first work, but that he had already courted 
public favor, although with no great success. Indeed, 
when he wished to reward a laborer for some service, he 
writes that "his purse said noe" and that 

Poets for th' most p[ar]te, thrid-bare clothed goe 
I thinke it be a grift ' bequeathed to 's all 
the poorest man, in myndes most liberall.'' 

J. M. also tells us, when he journeys to Malvern springs 
because of the "colhck," a story of an ungrateful son whose 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 30 verso. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 150 verso. 

' Possibly "gift." The Oxford Eng. Did. gives "grift" as an old 
form of "graft." 

* Vol. II, fol. 24 verso. 



104 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

conduct causes the death of his father.^ He speaks at length 
of the duty to a father and gives examples of sons who 
honored their parents. He condemns without restraint 
all those who have proved disobedient and ungrateful, 
exclaiming: 

"let me be rather childless & have none 
then such a viperous ungodly sonne." ^ 

The author several times in the course of his work returns 
to this subject of fihal love. He shows himself in a favor- 
able light, and it may be presumed with some certainty 
that J. M. was a good son to a respected father. 

But the manuscript even aids in the solution of the prob- 
lem of determining the author by references to his home. 
J. M. speaks frequently of the county of Essex, For ex- 
ample, he scorns an Essex parson who pretends to be a 
gentleman;^ he tells of an Essex justice whom he knew, 
who had denied "his father to his face";* and again, "when 
being come home," he found at " Wethersfeild " in Essex a 
water "as good as some of th' other" springs. The author 
at the time he wrote these passages may have been living 
in Essex, or at least he may have had interests in the county. 
On the other hand, we have mention made several times of 
"th' East Angles Border,"^ and J. M. tells us in the most 
positive fashion that. 

On the East Angles border I abide 
yet not in Essex on the outmost side.^ 

As the composition of the poem extended for at least four- 
teen or fifteen years, during this time J. M. may have lived 
in many places; but it is safe to say that at some period of 

1 Vol. II, Book VI. 4 Vol. II, fol. 105. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 104 ff. 6 Vol. II, fol. 107 verso. 
^ Vol. II, fol. 104. 6 Vol. II, fol. 115. 



J. M. GENT 105 

his life he Hved on the "East Angles border" and "on the 
outmost side." 

Finally, no one could read The Newe Metamorphosis 
or even the numerous quotations from it in the preceding 
pages without being impressed by the racy, colloquial, 
and simple vocabulary of the author. He deUghts in homely 
words of few syllables; he shuns contortions and remote 
phraseology. The grotesque language of much of the con- 
temporary satire, the detestable "sesquipedalian com- 
pounds" ^ confessing a bastard parentage, the nonsensical 
jargon which mars the early work of Marston, of Tourneur, 
and their school with its confusing use of ellipse, its whimsical 
absurdities, its affected learning drawn from many store- 
houses, its perplexing obscurity, are all absent from this 
writer of "yrefull Satyre." He is alien to the so-called 
school of Persius and its annoying impertinences to good 
taste. His only obscurity arises from haste of composition 
and lack of revision. His vigorous and vernacular English 
is marred, it is true, at times, by excessive mythological 
allusions; but this is a fault only too common even in later 
centuries, and J. M., claiming Ovid as his master, at least 
can offer this excuse in palliation. 

In determining the author of The Newe Metamorphosis 
we find, therefore, that we are aided by knowing that 
J. M. claimed to be a gentleman;^ that his name was 
French although his family did not come in with the Con- 
quest; that he was a soldier serving at Cadiz, in Ireland, 
and probably in Flanders; that he was in sympathy with 
the Puritans, possibly accepting their tenets; that he was 

^ Churton Collins' ed. Tourneur's Plays and Poems, Vol. I, pp. 
xxi ff. 

* Not only in the title can we arrive at this conclusion; many times 
in the poem he pokes fun at the new rich aspirant to birth, and he 
speaks as one proud of his own good birth. 



106 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

an admirer of the ill-starred Essex; that he was familiar 
with the country, rarely appreciating the secrets of angling 
and the life of the out-of-doors; that he possessed all the 
Englishman's inherited love for trees; that he knew flowers 
and herbs and possessed a fund of expert if quaint learning 
in regard to their practical uses with an inherent tendency 
to indulge in homely, tedious explanations; that he was 
interested and familiar with the economic problems of the 
country; that he was a man of wide reading and broad 
culture, expressing a preference for Cambridge; that he 
had before this work probably written poetry; that he was 
a devoted son; that he lived on the "outmost side" of the 
East Angles; and that he possessed a homely vernacular 
style. If we bear these things in mind, the search for the 
identity of J. M. gent, is facilitated. 



CHAPTER IV 
THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

If we accept the conclusions of the last chapter, the 
problem of the authorship of The Newe Metamorphosis 
becomes, in essential respects, a question of finding a J. M. 
gent, writing between the years 1600-1615, whose life con- 
forms to what the author tells of himself and whose personal 
tastes and peculiarities of style are in harmony with what 
we find in the manuscript. 

The author lived at a time of remarkable literary fecun- 
dity, when literature had become a profession, a precarious 
means of livelihood. The words of Harte concerning Jervase 
Markham that he was "the first English writer who deserves 
to be called a hackney writer" and that "all subjects 
seem to have been alike to him,"^ are unfair; for certainly 
he was not alone in trying to catch the ear of his contem- 
poraries by diverse kinds of composition. Gascoigne had 
wooed fortune with comedy and tragedy, with poetry 
serious and trivial, with excellent criticism and other mis- 
cellaneous prose; the versatile and by no means contempt- 
ible Churchyard affected a variety of subjects and styles 
besides the broadside in verse; Nash, Lyly, and Greene 
displayed admirable facility in adapting their works to the 
changing fashions in taste. Indeed, many of the eminent 
figures of this age were hackney writers in the sense that 
they wrote to please their public. J. M. himself undoubtedly 
planned his Newe Metamorphosis with a view to success; 

1 Lowndes, Bib. Manual, Vol. Ill, Part 2, p. 1474: William Harte, 
Essays in Husbandry. 

107 



108 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

he chose popular themes and conventional motifs; and the 
fact that he was only one of many who were striving in this 
way to win a liveUhood and fame makes the problem of 
identification even more difficult. 

In a question of this kind, lists of those who were at the 
great universities,^ dedicatory poems to authors and patrons 
and prefaces to various pubUshed works, the early writers 
on the Elizabethan stage and literature,^ and the several 
Miscellanies of the period are all of great value, for by ex- 
amining them we can find, with some degree of certainty, 
those men with the initials /. M. who were writing between 
1600 and 1615. Of course, it is possible that our author 
was unknown, or that in the lapse of years his name has 
been forgotten. The Newe Metamorphosis may have been 
the single effort of one so modest, so lacking in confidence 
that he was unwilling to seek an audience. But, on the 
other hand, this manuscript bears every earmark of being 
the work of an author with a too facile pen; it has all the 
insouciance of the adept in winning popularity. Its author 
knew London and the continent; he had come in contact 
with courtiers and with laborers; he understood the pubHc 
for whom he was writing; indeed, he tells us thai he had 
written poetry before and clearly for publication. It does 
not seem that he should have been completely forgotten. 

Francis Godolphin Waldron in reading the manuscript 
wrote in pencil, as we have seen, on the first title-page four 
names, suggesting that one of them might be the author. 
He mentions John Marston, Jervase Markham, John Mason, 
and a fourth name, almost illegible, James Martin or Mar- 

1 Foster, Alumni Oxonienses; Anthony a Wood, Fasti; Atheniae 
Cantabrigienses . 

2 Langbaine, An Account of English Dramatic Poets; Phillips, The- 
atrum Poetarum Anglicanorum; Winstanley, The Lives of the Most 
Famous English Poets. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 109 

ten.^ Waldron, a zealous antiquary in literature, who 
delighted in curious rarities, has given us the names of the 
only four men of whom we have record with the initials 
J. M. who were writing verse, similar in character to The 
Newe Metamorphosis during the first part of the seventeenth 
century,^ Let us first consider the two of less importance. 

John Mason received his Bachelor's degree at Cambridge 
in 1600-1, and his Master of Arts in 1606. He was a resi- 
dent of Catherine Hall,^ which is not mentioned by /. M. 
when he speaks of certain colleges. We know nothing 
further of him except that he is the author of a mediocre, 
ranting play,* called The Turke a worthie tragedie, repub- 
Ushed as An Excellent Tragedy of Muleasses the Turke and 
Borgias Governor of Florence, full of Interchangeable variety 
beyond expectation. To him is also assigned The School 
Moderator.^ Mason, or his publisher, evidently thought 
highly of this "worthie tragedie"; in his title-page there is 
none of the modesty of /. M., who, as it has been shown, 
deprecates his shortcomings as a poet. 

It seems scarcely possible that Mason, leaving Cambridge 
1600-1, could have taken part in the Cadiz expedition, or 
served under Essex in Ireland.^ The name John Mason, 
also, is undeniably English. It is in no way probable that 
he wrote The Newe Metamorphosis. 

Waldron in his list could scarcely have intended James 

^ Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith, Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. II, 
p. 481, says the fourth name is "rubbed out." This is incorrect. 

2 Geffray or Jeffrey Minshull or Mynshul was born about 1594. 
He entered Gray's Inn March 11, 1611-12. He was too young to be 
the author of The Newe Metamorphosis. Cf. Dictionary Nat. Biog. 

' Atheniae Cantabrigienses, Vol. Ill, pp. 17, 108; Lowndes, Bib. 
Manual, p. 1505. 

* Entered Stationers' Register, 10 March, 1608. 

6 1648. 

^ Essex was made Governor-General of Ireland 1598-99. 



110 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Martin/ the philosophical writer of Perthshire and teacher 
at Turin, as a probable author of this manuscript. This 
Martin was said to have been at Oxford, and he is chiefly 
remembered for his disputative powers. He died about 
1577, many years before the writing of the work under 
consideration. Another James Martin, ^ a Master of Arts 
of Oxford who was engaged in translating and revising in 
1629 and 1630,^ is undoubtedly intended. The fact that 
J. M. speaks of Cambridge as the greatest of England's 
universities tends to preclude the possibiHty of Martin's 
authorship, even if it were not for the facts that his age, 
his English name, and his type of work would also militate 
against this supposition.^ 

John Marston, however, is a much more significant figure 
in our literature than either the unimportant and almost 
unknown John Mason or James Martin, In addition, 
since the time Waldron examined this manuscript his name 
has been closely connected with it. Haslewood, indeed, 
as we have seen,^ attributed this work to the dramatist, 
and Halliwell-Phillipps asserted that it resembled in some 
degree his style. Miss Lucy Toulmin-Smith,^ however, 
denied the authorship of Marston; she maintained that he 
would not speak of his "infant Muse" and his "newe- 
borne poesie" in 1600 when he had already gained favor by 

1 Dictionary Nat. Biog., Vol. XXXVI, p. 280. 

2 Probably this was the James Martin who entered Magdalene 
College, Oxford, June 17, 1597, aged seventeen. Cf. Foster, Alumni 
Oxonienses, p. 978. 

^ Saravia's Vindiciae Sacrae; Sylvester's Panthea. 

* A John Morgan took part in the Cadiz expedition and was knighted 
for his services. He wrote nothing so far as it is known. Cf. Camden, 
Annales, Vol. II, and Hakluyt, Collection of Early Voyages, London, 
1810, Vol. II, p. 29. 

» Cf. Chap. II. 

« Cf. Chap. II. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 111 

satires, plays, and an Ovidian poem. In making this 
assertion she neglected to take into account the fact that 
J. M. also tells the reader that he has written poetry before 
this work, or the well-known affectation of modesty on the 
part of Marston. Miss Toulmin-Smith, on the other hand, 
strengthened her case materially when she offered in support 
of her contention the fact that the handwriting found in the 
manuscript differs entirely from the dedication in Marston's 
own hand to his Entertainment of Alice, Dowager Countess 
of Essex. ^ She did not take into consideration, however, 
the supposition that the manuscript may have been copied 
by some friend of the author or by an amanuensis. 

But the chirography of The Newe Metamorphosis is un- 
doubtedly that of the author. In spite of the fact of the 
great length of the work and that its composition extended 
over many years, the handwriting is the same throughout. 
There are trivial differences, very probably arising from haste, 
the quill used, or, as the poet naively remarks, because 
"my hand doth ake"^; but the numerous corrections, the 
words inserted in place of those crossed out, verify this 
conclusion. In consequence, the fact that the dedication 
to the Entertainment is in a different hand from that of The 
Newe Metamorphosis aids in the elimination of Marston. 

Marston, however, is too important a figure to be dis- 
missed so hastily, especially since for over a hundred years' 
he has been considered in connection with this manuscript. 
He is also one of the most interesting and tantalizing per- 
sonaUties contemporary with Shakspere; interesting because 
of his distinctive type of work, tantalizing because he always 
holds out promises rarely fulfilled of tragic intensity and 

^ Bridgewater MS. 

2 Vol. II, fol. 268. 

' Waldron examined the manuscript in 1806. Cf. Vol. II, fol. 138 



112 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

poetic beauty. His career was meteoric. In the very early 
twenties he took place with Lodge, Hall, and "the author of 
Piers Plowman" as "best for satyre" in England, ^ and he 
had already shocked and dehghted London with his in- 
sincere but vigorous lampoons, outlandish in vocabulary, 
obscure in meaning, ferocious in invective, and, at times, 
vile in imagination. A boy in years, with all the arrogance 
and fiery impetuousness of youth, he vied with Shakspere 
and Marlowe with his Pygmalion,'^ a poem, salacious, it is 
true, hke most of its genre, but partly redeemed by light 
humor, playful fancy, and a graceful ease, noteworthy in 
one so young. In spite of public and even private con- 
demnation,^ in face of the pretended moral purpose of the 
author, the popularity of this Ovidian idyll'* and of Marston 
himself grew speedily, and only a few years later he could 
write truthfully that he has been "so fortunate in the stage- 
pleasings." 

The truculent Gifford, partial and scathing in his criticism, 
seems to have blazed a trail, followed too readily by many 
successors. When he wrote that, "We have but to open 
his works to be conscious that Marston was the most scur- 
rilous, filthy, and obscene writer of his time" and that 
"some of the most loathesome parts of The Monk are to be 
found in that detestable play"^ (Sophonisba) , Gifford 
centered both the scholar's and the reader's attention on all 
that is revolting and hideous in the work of Marston. His 

^ Meres' Palladis Tamia, New Shakspere Society, Series 4, I, p. 161. 

^ The Metamorphos of Pygmalions Image; And Certayne Satyr es, 
1598. 

^ The Pygmalion was ordered burned in 1599. Cf. 41 Regina 
Elizabeth, Stationers' Register, Vol. HI, pp. 316 ff. Anthony Nixon, 
The Blacke Yeare, 1606, says Pygynalion has helped to corrupt England 
and "forms part of a prostitutes library." 

4 Reprinted, 1613 and 1628. 

^ Gifford, Ben Jonson, ed. 1875, p. xx. 



• THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 113 

obscene cynicism, his gloomy pessimism, his farrago of 
outlandish expressions, his absurd bombast and stilted 
grandiloquence, his revolting realism and mock casuistry, 
his reveUng in filth and nauseous details have all been 
accented time and time again to the detriment and even to 
the neglect of much that is admirable and noteworthy. 

Objectionable features, it must be kept in mind, are not 
only found in the plays of Marston; Webster and Middle- 
ton, Beaumont, Fletcher, and Massinger, in fact most of 
his contemporaries, offend the fine taste by lines and scenes 
of obscene wit or foul imagination. Indeed, there is no 
more foul-mouthed or scurrilous cynic, grotesquely deformed 
in body and soul, in the contemporary drama than Thersites; 
he heaps filth and obloquy on everything pure and noble. 
But Marston does not always offend our sensibilities; he 
has given us a great deal worthy of commendation and 
hearty admiration. He has left us plays of strange power 
and with a haunting charm. The gloomy pessimism, the 
offensive ribaldry, the annoying mannerisms are relieved 
and, indeed, to a large extent compensated for by vivid 
characterization, a freshness of wit and a comic power 
boisterously merry, a repressed vigor and impassioned 
strength, and splendid flashes of great poetry. The gentle 
and discriminating Lamb found much to praise. He dis- 
covered rare beauties in word and thought even in the 
rodomontade of Antonio and Mellida} 

And so it may be seen that if Marston is responsible for 
The Newe Metamorphosis, we may expect to find in the 
course of its rambling length the distinctive faults and 
excellencies of its author. A work commenced in 1600, 

1 The laughable underplot of the Mulligrubs in The Dutch Courtezan, 
and The Fawn are examples of his power in farce. The selections given 
by Lamb are chosen with fine discrimination and show Marston at 
his noblest. 



114 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

much of it written before 1603,^ composed hastily and, as 
the manuscript shows, with Httle and careless revision, 
would assuredly display all the contortions and absurd 
affectations of Marston's early style, his bizarre vocabulary 
and his vagaries, together with his intrinsic power and 
splendor in conception and his masterly command of verse. 

Let us again consider, before we take up the question 
of stylistic characteristics, what we know of /. M., both 
from his own words and from implication, in relation to the 
meager information we have of John Marston. 

In the first place, J. M. signs himself "gentleman." 
Marston belonged to the old and respectable Shropshire 
family of Marstons.^ His father, who had moved to Coven- 
try, was a lecturer of the Middle Temple in 1592, and was 
a man of some prominence. The dramatist matriculated 
at Brazenose College, Oxford,^ on the 4th of February 
1591-2, as a ''gentleman's son of Co. Warwick." The 
celebrated stage quarrel also throws light on his gentle 
birth. Crispinus in Jonson's Poetaster, who figures as 
Marston,^ boasts of the "armes which he bears," and Chloe 
tells him that "your legges doe sufficiently shew you are a 
gentleman borne, sir: for a man borne upon little legges, 
is alwayes a gentleman borne." ^ Even the truculent Jonson 
who "beat Marston, and took his pistoll from him"^ 
conceded that his fiery and provoking opponent had the 

1 Vol. I, Part II, Book XII, and Vol. II, Book I, both refer to the 
recent death of Elizabeth. There are numerous references to this 
queen, especially in the first twelve books. 

2 Bullen, The Works of Marston, Vol. I, p. xii. Joseph Hunter, 
Add. Ms. 24,487 {Chorus Vatum). 

* Grosart, Introduction to Marston's Poems, p. x. 

* Cf. Jonson's Conversations with William Drummond, ed. David 
Laing, Shakespeare Society Publications, 8-10, pp. 20 fif. 

» Jonson, Poetaster, Act II, So. 1, 11. 92 ff. 
® Jonson's Conversations, p. 11. 



• THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 115 

traditional right to the title of gentleman. J. M. gent, 
consequently, may stand for John Marston. 

But in the second place, /. M. writes that his name is 
"Frenche" and that it did not come in "w*** conqueringe 
Williams sworde." Marston's name is essentially English 
in its derivation. In the Visitation of Shropshire (1564- 
1620), the first Marston referred to is in 1396 ^ over three 
hundred years after the Norman Conquest — ''who held 
a 'manor' in Salop." ^ In no way can Marston be iden- 
tified with what this couplet tells of the author. 

Again J. M. was a soldier who had been at Cadiz, in 
Connaught, and probably in Flanders. It is true that we 
know very little of Marston's life. Anthony a Wood 
tells us, however, that he was "admitted Bachelor of Arts on 
6th of February 1593-4, as the eldest son of an Esquire" ^ 
and "after completing that degree by determination went 
his way and improved his learning in other faculties." 
We learn from Meres that in 1598 he was already known in 
literary London as a conspicuous satirist. It is usually 
conjectured that in the years intervening he had studied 
law. An interesting passage in his father's will strengthens 
this conjecture and lends to it authority. He leaves 
"my law books to my s'* son whom I hoped would have 
profited by them in the study of law but man proposeth 
and God disposeth &c." ■* The future dramatist evidently 
grew restless in the law chambers and turned to the pre- 
carious field of letters. 

It is possible, of course, that he may have accompanied 
Essex and Lord Howard to Cadiz in 1596; many wild young 
spirits and beplumed gallants took part in this spectacular 

^ Grosart, Introduction to Marston's Poems, p. vi. 

^ Grosart, Ibid., p. vi. 

3 Wood's Fasti, ed. Bliss, p. 602. 

* Grosart, Introduction to Marston's Poems, pp. x ff. 



116 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

expedition/ and the adventurous young Marston may have 
been numbered among them. John Donne, who was about 
three years older, had been attracted by this adventure and 
the Azores expedition a year later. But in the work of 
Marston we find no reason to suppose that he had ever 
followed the calhng of arms. In his satires he rails in his 
customary fashion at great Tubrio who 

Eats up Ills arms : and wars munition, 

and he prays that this miscreant will 

Melt and consume in pleasures surquedry.^ 

He speaks again of "a, dread Mavortian" who "wallows 
unbraced," who is "nought but huge blaspheming oaths," 
and who has a "Swart snout, big looks, misshapen Snitzers' 
clothes "; indeed he is sunk 

In sensual lust and midnight bezelling,' 

and is grossly bestial.* Later he writes of " Swart Martins" 
Swooping along in wars feign'd maskery, 

and of those "soldadoes" who are "brutes sensual" pos- 
sessing "no spark of intellectual." ^ 

Marston's pessimistic attitude in his satires is rarely 
sincere and mainly conventional. His role was that of the 
virtuous scourger of the vices of his fellows, a misanthrope 
despairing in acrid terms of human frailty; but still in spite 
of his affectation of morality we can judge from these at- 

1 Hakluyt's Collection of Early Voyages, London, 1810, Vol. II, 
p. 19; and Camden, Annales, Vol. II, p. 161. 

2 Satire I, 11. 90 ff. Bullen, The Works of Marston, Vol. Ill, 
pp. 266 flf. 

^ tippling. 

* Scourge of Villainy, VII, 11. 100 ff. 

« Scourge of Villainy, VIII, U. 77 ff. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 117 

tacks in his satires on the soldier that he had no intimate 
knowledge or predilection for the profession of arms. 

In addition, in his plays his soldiers are the soldiers of 
his sources or the conventional man of war of the contem- 
porary stage ^ and his references are rare and superficial to 
the foreign military engagements of his country.^ Indeed, 
his youth, his activities, his rapid authorship between 
1597 and 1606, and his works all seem to preclude the sup- 
position that Marston was a soldier, or that he had served 
in Spain, ^ Ireland, and Flanders. 

Then we have seen that J. M., in his more thoughtful 
moments, was either a Puritan or in sympathy with this 
derided sect; several times, he is outspoken in their de- 
fense and praise.* Marston, on the other hand, laughed at 
the Puritans and gibed at their foibles both in his satires 
and in his plays. He mocks the "devout mealmouth'd 
precision" and declares "no Jew, no Turk" would act more 
inhumanely toward a Christian "as this Puritan," only 
"a seeming saint — vile cannibal."^ He also speaks of 
"the rank Puritan" who makes his rehgion "a bawd to 
lewdness"^ and charges him with the most degenerate 
vices. Then the merry subplot of The Dutch Courtezan 
is concerned with the pious hypocrites, Mulligrub and his 
wife. It must always be borne in mind that this contumely 
of the Puritan and making merry at his expense are largely 
conventional; still the /. M. of The Newe Metamorphosis, 
with his dignified and earnest defense of the Puritans and 

1 The generals and captains in Sophonisba are examples. 

2 Examples in Jacke Drums Entertainment, pp. 141 and 166, Simp- 
son, School of Shakspere. 

2 Satire I, 1. 108, has a possible reference to the Essex expedition. 
" Cf. Chap. Ill, pp. 29 ff. 
5 Satire II, 11. 55-86. Bullen, III, pp. 271 ff. 

« Scourge of Villainy, Satire IX, U. 109 fF. Bullen III, p. 366. An- 
other attack is found in Scourge of Villainy, Satire III, 1. 154. 



118 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

his indignation at the attempt to make them suffer for the 
Gunpowder Plot/ could never have written the Hbels found 
in the satires and plays of Marston. 

It is also of interest that, whereas J. M. is constantly 
heaping abuse on the Roman CathoHc faith and its followers, 
interrupting his stories in the most aggravating way with 
these attacks and even devoting two books to the papists,^ 
Marston is comparatively silent on this subject. Possibly 
his half-Itahan mother may have won his sympathy for the 
Romanists.^ 

The love of the country and that famiHar knowledge 
and homely information which J. M. dehghts in placing 
before his reader concerning fishing, trees, flowers, plant 
life, farming, and all the many interests of a man bred in 
the open, are not found in the works of Marston. He 
never delights in speaking of the carp, the speckled trout, 
and other river fish; in praising the craft of the angler; 
in giving the properties of herbs and trees; in homely 
recipes and remedies; indeed, much that is most distinctive 
in the work of /. M., an inherent part of the man, uncon- 
sciously and continually betraying his tastes and training, 
Marston shows no fondness for. He is a city man. When 
he gives his reader or his audience local atmosphere, when 
he pictures the fop, the parasite, the spendthrift, or the 
gull, his background is that of his source or London. 

In several other important respects, which require no 
detailed mention, it is impossible to identify Marston as 
J. M. The former, an Oxford graduate, would scarcely 
call Cambridge the greatest of English universities. Again, 

1 Vol. II, fol. 204. 

^ His maternal grandfather was an Italian surgeon, Andrew Guarsi, 
who settled in London. Cf. Grosart, Introduction, pp. vii ff. 

2 In Pygmalion's Image, Bullen, III, p. 25, he refers to "peevish 
Papists," and in The Scourge of Villainy, Satire II, 11. 69 ff., there 
is some conventional satire. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 119 

though Hke many of his contemporaries he knew several 
languages and undoubtedly had read widely, especially in 
the Uterature of Italy/ still he never paraded his knowledge; 
he did not trumpet abroad his learning in the manner so 
characteristic of J. M. And finally, born in Coventry, 
Uving in London until at least 1606-7, and presented with 
the living of Christ Church in Hampshire, "10th October 
1616," ^ it is not probable that he ever Uved on the "outmost 
border" of the East Angles,^ the home of /. M. 

When we come to the question of style — the diction, 
the use of figures, the sentence structure, and the versi- 
fication — The Newe Metamorphosis is so unhke the dis- 
tinctive work of Marston that it is surprising that it could 
have been ascribed to him by any one who had read even 
a few pages of the manuscript. Marston possessed eccen- 
tricities in style so marked, frequently so absurd, that his 
hand can be detected with a degree of certainty. The 
man himself was so fiery, so arrogant in disposition, and so 
bizarre in his mannerisms, that he became a figure in much 
of the contemporary drama. Critics have identified him 
as a character in several plays associated with the War of 
the Theatres. At various times he has been found to be 
Pistol,^ Carlo,^ Anaides,^ Hedon,^ Crispinus,* the scurrilous 

1 Aronstein, Eriglische Studien, XXI, p. 74, writes that Marston 
knew Latin and the Italian novehsts. 

2 Bullen, The Works of Marston, Vol. I, p. xiv. » Vol. II, fol. 115. 
^ Sarrazin, Kleine Shakespere Studien, in der Beitr. zur roman. und 

engl. Philologie, X, says Marston is Pistol. Wyndham arrived at the 
same conclusion. 

^ Fleay, Biographical Chronicle, I, p. 97; Herford in Dictionary 
Nat. Biog. in Life of Jonson; Symonds, Ben Jonson, p. 37; Penni- 
man, War of the Theatres, p. 50. R. A. Small, The Stage Quarrel, 
p. 36, denies this assertion. 

* Cynthia's Revels. Cf. Penniman, War of the Theatres, p. 91. Small 
denies this, p. 37. 

^ Cf. Small, p. 37. * Dekker, Satiromastix, p. 195. 



120 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Thersites, and many others.^ And his fustian style, mark- 
ing and marring his work, was a characteristic of the man, 
occasioning much ridicule. Clove in Every Man in His 
Humour ^ and Crispinus in The Poetaster ^ give us some of 
the abominations of many syllables of which Marston was 
guilty, and the oft quoted passage from The Return from 
Parnassus,^ 

Methinks he is a Ruffian in his stile 
Withouten bands or garters ornament 
He quaffes a cup of French mans Helicon 
Then royster doyster in his oyhe tearmes, 

shows contemporary opinion coincided with the later verdict 
concerning Marston's absurdities. 

The Newe Metamorphosis, on the other hand, displays 
none of these peculiarities. The diction is remarkably 
simple; there is no obscurity because of the omission of 
words; and even in those passages in which the author 
shows the most passion there is no tendency to ellipsis, 
to the exclamation and the question, to rhetorical devices, 
and to the high-flown, strongly Latinized jargon of Marston. 
J. M., however, lacks the divine fire of the poet; to rise 
to the graphic force of felicitous expression and appropriate 
epithet — those magical flashes of genius that delight us 
in Marston — is never in his power. In elevated passages 
he is labored. His gift lies in other directions. Whenever 
he strains for the loftier flights, he destroys his effect by 
some homely expression or prosaic detail, banal and in- 
felicitous. For example, in his apotheosis of Peace he 
writes that 

^ C. R. Baskerville, English Elements in Jonson's Early Comedy, 
p. 304, says that Jonson in "portrayal of character is primarily a 
follower of Renaissance standards and ideals," and there is "a large 
background of conventionality in Jonson's satire of Marston." 

2 Act III, Sc. 1. 3 Act V, Sc. 3, 11. 484 ff. " Act I, Sc. 2. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 121 

It turneth swords to coulters, pikes to akorne poles 
it bringeth forth boyes and girles (like fishe) in sholes, 

with no intention of coarseness, and the unusual and dis- 
tasteful, the "images of filth and putrefaction" ^ so common 
in Marston are foreign to his work. 

In other respects also the work of Marston and J. M. 
are dissimilar. J. M. lacks the skill in verse displayed by 
the dramatist; he handles his couplet with difficulty; rime 
and accent often shackle his rapid flow of narrative. On 
the other hand, Marston's versification in his early satires 
in which he uses the couplet frequently displays "a care- 
lessness and laxity," but it also possesses a "freedom and 
facility," ^ a racy vigor and buoyancy never found in the 
pages of The Newe Metamorphosis. Then, too, /. M. 
never shows the dramatic power either in characterization 
or in visualizing an episode possessed by his greater contem- 
porary who, before he was thirty, had influenced to a singular 
degree the stage literature of his day. 

It can be safely concluded from the evidence which 
has been advanced that Marston was not the author of 
The Newe Metamorphosis. His name was not "Frenche"; 
he probably was never a soldier; there is no record of his 
being present at the taking of Cadiz, or in Ireland and 
Flanders; he attacked the Puritans and showed no attach- 
ment for Essex; he had no interest in the life and occupations 
of the country; he was not fond of digressing into homely 
practical details ; he was not a Cambridge man and made no 
parade of his learning; he did not live on the "outer" 
border of East Anglia; his handwriting differed from that 
of The Newe Metamorphosis; and his style was markedly 
unlike that of J. M. 

1 Thorndike, Tragedy, p. 147. 

2 Warton, Hazlitt ed., Vol. IV, p. 409. 



CHAPTER V 

THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 
(Continued) — JERVASE MARKHAM 

Since John Marston was not the author of The Newe 
Metamorphosis, the versatile and proHfic Jervase — often 
written Jarvis, Jervis, and Gervase, and frequently I. 
and J. — Markham remains to be considered. 

Markham belonged to a family not only esteemed in its 
native county of Nottingham, but which, in its long history, 
during many centuries, had also furnished some illustrious 
names to the roll of honor of England. Francis Markham,^ 
an adventurous elder brother of Jervase and the author of 
Five Decades of the Epistle of War ^ and the Booke of Honour, 
tells us ^ of the antiquity of the Markham family and that 
it antedated even the coming of William the Conqueror,^ 
and Camden ^ writes that this family "for worth and 
antiquity hath been verie notable." Indeed, before the Con- 
quest West and East Markham had been contiguous par- 

1 Born 1565, died 1627. 

2 Fol. 1622. 

^ Genealogy or Petigre of the Markhams of Markham, Gotham, Oxton, 
Ollerton & Sedgebrook, 27 July, 1601. 

* In the earliest edition, 1835, of J. Burke's Commoners & Landed 
Gentry, the lineage of the Markhams of Nottinghamshire is not traced 
further back than Henry II to a certain Sir Alexander de Marcham, 
Castellan. A History of the Markham Family by the Reverend David 
Frederick Markham, London, 1854, states that the Markham family 
traces its origin "to a date anterior to the Norman Conquest," 
Chap. I, p. I. (A new edition called Markham Memorials, edited by 
Sir Clements Markham, has additional Markham data.) 

^ Camden, Britannia, p. 550. 

122 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 123 

ishes in Nottinghamshire, and after the coming of the 
Normans a certain Claron, who had served the Confessor, 
retained West Markham under the overlordship of a favorite 
of the Norman Duke, Roger de Bush. Claron's descendants 
assumed the title Lord of Marcham, and the name of the 
family for many years was written De Marcham.^ Wilham 
de Marcham, an eminent and astute ecclesiastic, both Bishop 
of Wells and Lord Treasurer to his king, Edward I, who was 
recommended by Boniface VIII to be enrolled in the calen- 
dar of saints,^ and "that pattern of an upright judge," ^ 
Sir John Markham, Lord Chief Justice of the Comn^on 
Pleas, who framed the instrument deposing the unfortunate 
Richard II and who rivals Sir William Gascoigne for the 
honor of sending the merry Prince Hal to prison,^ are 
the two most conspicuous members of this family before 
the sixteenth century. 

In the turbulent years of the War of the Roses, the 
Markhams were often of service. Polydore Vergil speaks 
at length of a certain Sir John, a brave soldier and comrade 
of the first Tudor. Indeed, the king's mother, the kindly 
Margaret, married her kinswoman, Anne Neville, a descend- 
ant of royalty, to his son, the great-grandfather of Jervase. 
This Markham, after the fall of the monasteries, became 
very powerful, ruling all the country around Newark,^ 
and he held the responsible position under Edward VI 
of Lieutenant of the Tower. In spite, however, of his 
prominence he died ''utterly ruined."^ His grandchildren 
included Francis, the mother of the ill-fated Anthony 

^ a. A History of the Markham Family, pp. 2 £f. 
'^ Cornelius Brown, Lives of Nottingham Worthies, pp. 167-169. 
^ Lord Campbell, Lives of Chief Justices. 

* A History of the Markham Family, pp. 9 ff. The evidence is based 
on the Memoranda of Francis Markham, a contemporary of Shakspere. 
6 L. and P. Henry VIII, XIV. (l), 295. 
6 Thoroton, History of Nottinghamshire, Vol. I, pp. 343 ff. 



124 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Babington, and that fair Isabella Markham, the favored 
attendant of the Princess Ehzabeth even in her imprison- 
ment, who was lauded and wooed in several poems by Sir 
John Harrington. She married this knight, encouraged by 
her royal mistress, who became the godmother of their son, 
the wit and translator of Ariosto. 

Robert Markham, the father of Jervase, was the brother 
of Francis and Isabella. He also stood high in the favor of 
the queen and is celebrated in that jingle of her knights of 
Nottingham, 

Gervase the gentille, Stanhope the stout 
Markham the lion, and Sutton the lout. 

He occupied many offices of trust, but the records tell us 
that he was also a "valiant consumer of his paternal inheri- 
tance." ^ His son Robert, the eldest brother of Jervase, 
also a "fatal unthrift and Destroyer of this eminent family,"^ 
completed the ruin of the Markham fortunes. 

Jervase Markham was the third son of this Robert Mark- 
ham of Gotham, a small village not far from the historic 
city of Newark in Nottinghamshire, and of his first wife, 
Mary, daughter of Sir Francis Leake. As his brother 
Francis states in his Memoranda that he was born the 
25th of July in the seventh year of the reign of Ehzabeth, 
one may assume that Jervase was born about 1567 or 1568.^ 

The chequered career of Francis, as told in his curious 
autobiography, is of interest, because undoubtedly his 
younger brother had many of the same advantages in early 
life and was attracted by the meteoric career of the venture- 

1 A History of the Markham Family, p. 26. 

2 Thoroton, History of Nottinghamshire, Vol. I, p. 344. 

' Rev. A. B. Grosart in his Memorial introduction to the Tears of 
the Beloved, Fuller Worthies^ Library, Vol. II, p. 466, puts his birth in 
1566; A History of the Markham Family, p. 64, puts it in 1568. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 125 

some elder brother, as well as by the soldier blood inherited 
from many forefathers, to follow for years the profession 
of the soldier, Francis writes in part: 

First brought up at my lord of Pembroke's, whose wife was 
Catherine daughter of y^ earl of Shrewsbury, whose mother and 
his were cousin germans. Brought up after 10 years with Bilson, 
schoolmaster of Winchester and after bishop there. After, I was 
put to Adrianus de Seraina, at Southampton, a schoolmaster, who 
going to his country, the Lowe Countries, my lord put me to one 
Malin, a lowe fellow, schoolmaster at Paules. Then, 1582, my 
lord put me to Trinity College in Cambridge, to my tutor Dr. 
Hammond, and allowed me forty marks per annum. My tutor 
departing, left me at Dr. Gray's. I contemned him, and went to 
y^ warrs. Whereat my lord was angry and cut oif my pension. 
So I lived in disgrace, till I submitted myself to my father in 1586. 

Francis then studied law at Gray's Inn, got a ''companie 
and was captaine" under Lord Essex in France, and later 
followed this versatile favorite in his disastrous campaign 
in Ireland. Before this he must have served with the 
mihtary genius of Ehzabeth's closing years, for he tells us 
that he was "drawne againe to ye Lowe Countries" with 
Sir Francis Vere. His later life was one of reckless adven- 
ture. Of impecunious but good family, he wooed without 
success the fashionable Countess of Derby and Cumberland ; 
was imprisoned for many weeks for debt, only to be released 
by such noble personages as "Isabel y® Countesse of Rutland, 
y"" Lord Monteigle, y*" Lord Sidney, and Sir Francis Vere"; 
and recklessly raffled for a jewel with ten of the greatest 
ladies of fashion.^ At the end, embittered by failure and 
forgotten by those he had served, he retired to his native 
county to write his Booke of Honour. A vaUant soldier, 
a scholar of no mean attainment, a prose writer of charm, 
and a courtier truly Ehzabethan in his careless daring and 
1 Cf. A History of the Markham Family, pp. 31 ff. 



126 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

dare-devil enthusiasm for romance and adventure, such was 
Francis, the brother of Jervase Markham. 

The younger brother, undoubtedly, possessed to a large 
degree the careful education, the varied interests, and 
the joy in adventure found in Francis Markham.^ He, 
also, was by profession a soldier and served in both the Low 
Countries and in Ireland ^ with his two brothers, Francis 
and Godfrey. But he was, in addition, a man of broad 
culture and varied interests. His works show that he read 
French, Itahan, and Spanish; and Dutch too, he probably 
imderstood.^ His versatility was amazing. Harte, indeed, 
writing a century later, unkindly called him the first English 
hackney writer, and declared that all subjects seem to have 
been easy to him and that his "thefts were innumerable." 
Not only was Markham the favorite authority during his 
Hfetime on the horse and horsemanship, about which he 
wrote with all the spontaneous ardor of the enthusiastic 
lover, but his writings on husbandry, the dehghts and tricks 
of angUng, the falcon, the tillage of the soil, the care of 
cattle, recipes for the housewife, rural occupations, the 
pleasures and value of archery, prominent leaders, heraldry, 
and the profession of arms also show an interest in a diver- 
sity of subjects and an extensive knowledge of them. 

Markham delighted in the life of action. He took joy 
in the country in which he must have spent much of his 
busy career, and the life and duties of the soldier he had 
learned in many lands in the stern school of the camp. 
He aimed at popularity with an engaging frankness, and he 
attained it. Several of his prose works were reprinted 

^ Francis in 1595 was "honoured with a degree in the university 
of Heidelberg." Thos. Bailey, Annals of Nottingham, Vol. II. 

2 History of the Markham Family, p. 34; Lives of Nottingham Worthies, 
pp. 167 ff., etc. 

* Langbaine calls him a good scholar and an excellent linguist. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 127 

many times during the seventeenth century. His enthusi- 
astic assurance was contagious; but this assumption of 
authority in his many fields was not merely the empty 
vainglorious boast of an unscrupulous vender of other 
men's wares. ^ "Showman at heart," he was one who must 
" beat his drum with characteristic flourish " ^; a sharp "jour- 
nalist" who was an adept in attracting applause, as Mr. Aldis 
writes in his sympathetic estimation.^ But with all these 
frailties, Jervase Markham was so vital, so vahant in spirit 
in face of adversity, so buoyantly optimistic, so chivalrously 
reverential to his father,* so tenderly and humbly pious 
in his childlike trust in his Maker, that to those who know 
his curious pamphlets with "their singular rhythmical 
charm" of style and homely diction,^ smacking of the flavor 
of the soil he urges the reader to cultivate, he seems alive; 
he awakens a responsive glow. 

Markham's literary activities were not confined to pam- 
phlets. Belles-lettres early attracted him, although with 
modest sincerity he desclaimed to be any more than a 
humble worshipper at the shrine of the Muses. In his 
preface to the Tears of the Beloved he offers to the "Christian 

1 Harte speaks of his many thefts; Hazlitt says he was an "adept" 
in inserting his name. 

2 H. G. Aldis, Cambridge History of Eng. Lit., Vol. IV, p. 418. 

^ Cambridge History of Eng. Lit., Vol. IV, Chap. XII: Writers on 
Country Pursuits and Pastimes. 

* His first work, A Discourse of Horsmanshippe, 1593, is dedicated 
to his father; and in a letter written to Sir John Markham of Ollerton, 
who had quarreled with his father and called Jervase a "lyinge Knave," 
he says: "but for 'lyinge knave' w*^ him dwell it w*^^ unjustly gave it 
me, and doe but name hym that will in equal place so name me, and I 
will eyther give my soul to god or thrust y® lyinge knave unto hys 
bossome. S"" imagin me as you wryte me to be trulye my father's 
Sonne, so have I trulye a feelinge of my father's indignities." Lam- 
beth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 

5 Aldis, p. 425. 



128 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Reader" the fruits of "my harsh and untuned Muse," 
and he speaks of his talent as "slender and simple." Again, 
in a letter to an irascible kinsman, who had called him "a 
poetycall lyinge knave," he rephes: "For my love to poesye 
if it be an error, I confess my selfe faultye, and have w**" as 
greate hartynes as ever I grieved for any sinne comytted 
gaynst th6 hyest, mourned for myne howers mispent in y^ 
feather-light studye, yet can I name many noble person- 
ages who w**^ greater desyer, and more fervencie have 
cortynued and boasted in y^ humor, w"*^ thoughe in others 
it be excellent, in my selfe I loathe and utterlye abhorr it."^ 

In the same year that A Discourse of Horsmanshippe 
appeared,^ the Stationers' Register mentions a Thy r sis and 
Daphne,^ now lost, but undoubtedly, as Mr. Fleay con- 
jectured, "an amatory poem" similar in treatment to 
Venus and Adonis ^ This was followed two years later by 
his popular Honorable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinvile 
Knight, a tedious, halting story in verse, burdened with 
classical allusions and conceits, of the gallant fight against 
Spain, and by his religious Poem of Poems, or Sions muse. 

In addition to these and later original poems,^ he trans- 
lated from the French of Desportes ^ and of Madame Gene- 
vieve Petau Maulette,^ and probably from the Italian.' 
He also continued, most prosaically,^ Sidney's Arcadia. 

1 Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 

2 1593. 

3 April 23, 1593. 

^ Fleay, Biographical Chronicle of the English Stage, p. 5S. 

^ The Tears of the Beloved, 1600; Marie Magdalene's Lamentations, 
1601. 

^ Rodmouth's Inf email, or the Diuell conquered, 1608; the first edi- 
tion was in 1598. 

' Devoreux's Vertues Tears, 1597-8. 

^ The Famous Whore, or The Noble Curtizan, 1609. 

^ The English Arcadia, 1607, and The Second and Last Part of the 
First Book of the English Arcadia, 1613. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 129 

The stage, also, naturally attracted Markham; a comedy, 
The Dumbe Knight,^ and a tragedy, Herod and Anti-pater,"^ 
are additional evidence of his industry and popularity. 
The former, drawn in the main from Bandello,^ is not without 
merit, Mr. Fleay, with that vision that has often helped 
to solve many problems of the EHzabethan period, assigned, 
I believe correctly, the humorous, satirical underplot, com- 
prising the story of the miserly Prate, his silly wife Lollia, 
the bawd Collaquintida, the obscene clerk President, the 
blunt soldier lover Alphonso, and other minor characters 
to Markham."* The fun in this play is not of the finest or 
of the cleanest, but Markham shows genuine ability in 
creating character by a few impressionistic touches, and he 
is not lacking a certain lively animation and a good-natured 
cynicism which help to raise his scenes above mediocrity and 
often furnish real diversion. 

And so we can appreciate to a degree the indefatigable 
industry of Jervase Markham, an industry which apparently 
rejected nothing that his popularity would sell and which 
did not hesitate to repeat even verbatim, with an impudent 
but ingenuous assurance, what he had before offered to a 
guileless pubhc.^ Travail of authorship caused him little 
labor. With a capacious memory, stored with a motley 
wealth of classical and medieval learning drawn from many 

1 1608. Lewas Alachin collaborated in this play. It is published in 
Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. IV, 1780 edition. 

^ 1622. It was acted several times before publication. William 
Sampson collaborated. 

^ Langbaine first mentioned the source. 

^ Fleaj% Biographical Chronicle, Vol. II, p. 58. 

^ This undoubtedly led to the famous entry in the Stationers' Register 
signed by INIarkham to write no more books and cause "bookcs to be 
printed of the Deseases or cures of any Cattle, as Horse, Oxe, Cowe, 
Sheepe, Swine and Goates." Cf. Arber, Transcript of the Stationers' 
Register, Vol. Ill, p. 317. 



130 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

storehouses, and aided by a keen power of observation 
and a quaint fund of popular lore, he valiantly entered the 
lists of authorship with the contemporary giants and was 
not driven from the field discreditably. Though Jonson, 
arrogant in a real superiority, may tell Drummond that 
Markham "was not of the number of the faithful [i.e. 
Poets], and but a base fellow," ^ and the youthful Hall 
may jeer at the " Ink-hornisms " and ''light-skirts" of 
"the holy spouse of Christ" in the Song of Solomon,^ still 
even in his youth Markham was not despised. Meres and 
Bodenham mention him; ^ Guilpin writes that though he 
is "censur'd for his want of plot," still "his Subject's rich," 
and that "his Muse scares a falcons gallant pitch"; ^ and 
again, England's Parnassus has as many as forty-seven 
quotations attributed to Markham, a convincing sign of his 
popularity as a poet.^ 

The tests which we applied to Marston concerning the 
authorship of The Newe Metamorphosis are most significant 
when Markham is considered. They lead, indeed, taken 
in conjunction with several additional points to be advanced 
later, to the conviction that Jervase Markham planned to 
capture pubhc fancy in a new field. We have seen, to 
enumerate again, that the author of this manuscript signed 
himseK J. M. gent, that his name was French, although his 

^ Ben Jonson's Conversations with William Drummond, ed. by 
David Laing, Shakespeare Society Publication, 8-10, p. xi. 

^ Hall, Virgidemiarum, Lib. I, Sat. VIII. 

^ Meres, Palladis Tamia, New Shakspere Society, Series 4, I, p. 163; 
Bodenham, Belvedere or The Garden of the Muses, Spenser Society, 
Vol. 17, in the address to the Reader. 

* Guilpin, Skialetheia, Satyre VI, ed. Grosart, Occasional Issues, 
Vol. VI, p. 63. 

^ England's Parnassus, ed. Charles Crawford. Mr. Crawford says 
that twenty-two of Markham's quotations have been traced; twenty- 
five are untraced. Cf. p. xliii. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 131 

family did not come in with the Conqueror; that he was a 
soldier, serving at Cadiz, and also in Ireland and Flanders; 
that he was in sympathy with the Puritans; that he was an 
admirer of the ill-starred Essex; that he was a man familiar 
with the country pursuits; that he loved trees, flowers, 
herbs, and possessed a fund of quaint learning in regard to 
their practical uses; that he was a man of wide reading and 
culture, expressing a preference for Cambridge ; that he had 
even before this work written poetry; that he was devoted 
to his father; that he lived on the "outmost side" of the 
East Angles; and that he possessed a homely, vernacular 
style. 

During Markham's lifetime we find his name, Jervase, 
spelled in various ways. The Stationers' Register, when it 
gives the author of the newly licensed work, frequently 
refers to him as J. M., I. M., or Jervis Markham.^ Many of 
his works, when published, printed his Christian name be- 
ginning with a J. or an I., the latter in the Elizabethan 
period often being used in place of the capital J. His first 
extant work,^ A Discourse of Horsmanshippe, has its dedi- 
cation to his father signed Jervas Markham. Again, 
Sir Richard Grinvile Knight has some of its prefatory son- 
nets signed J. M., but its dedication to "lord Montioy" 
has Markham's name at length commencing with a J. 
Devoreux or Vertues Teares,^ Teares of the Beloved,* some 
copies of The Dumbe Knight,^ and the forty-seven quotations 
in England's Parnassus, assigned to Markham, are all 
signed with the Christian name commencing with a J. or 

1 Examples: 22 May, 1613; 25 June, 1619. 

2 1593. 

3 1597. 

* 1600. Cf. the original title-page in Grosart, Fuller Worthies' Ld- 
hrary, Vol. II, p. 490. 

' Cf. Fleay, Biographical Chronicle of the English Stage, Vol. II, 
p. 58. 



132 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

with the initial J. or I.^ The entry of his burial in the 
Register of St. Giles, Cripplegate, is conclusive proof that 
the J. was frequently and authoritatively used. The 
burial entry reads, "1636/7 Feb. 3. Jarvis Markham, 
gent." 2 

An entry in the Stationers^ Register ^ promising to cease 
writing treatises on specified subjects, and a letter written 
in support of his father in a family contention * are both 
signed Geruis. But in these two instances the name is 
printed, and Markham, a penman of no mean skill, fond of 
ornamental flourishes, possibly took more pleasure in print- 
ing the capital G with its possibilities of ornamentation than 
the simple J. or I. It may also be of interest to state at this 
point that the printed capital G in both these documents 
can be found many times with all its peculiarities in The Newe 
Metamorphosis where a capital G is used.^ It is also a 
matter of some significance that the Christian name of 
Chaucer is spelt in this manuscript commencing with a J.^ 

The title "gent" we have seen used in his burial entry. 
It is also found in the entry just mentioned in the Stationers^ 
Register and in some of the dedications to his works. Mark- 
ham was of an eminent family and had the right to use the 
title "gentleman." Indeed, The Newe Metamorphosis sev- 

^ I have not been able to verify some of the above statements con- 
cerning the spelhng of his Christian name because of the dearth of Mark- 
ham material in this country and the difficulty of communicating 
with England during the war. I base some of my statements on ma- 
terial found in Warton, History of the English People, Vol. IV, p. 113, 
note k; J. Payne Collier; Fleay, etc. 

2 Cf. Grosart, Fuller Worthies' Library, Vol. II, p. 485. 

3 Cf. Arber's Transcript, Vol. Ill, p. 317. 
* Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 

^ At this period formation of letters and spelling of words present 
many difficulties. In the manuscript under discussion we have two 
very dissimilar capital G's, M's, J's, etc., often used on the same page. 

« Vol. I, Part II, fol. 90 verso. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 133 

eral times expresses with much bitterness the author's 
contempt for the "new rich" of his period, and he attacks 
at length the practice of King James to sell to any one with 
the money to pay the fee the title of gentleman or knight- 
hood.^ 

Since J. M. gent, could easily refer to Jervase Markham, 
the next point to consider in the search for the author is the 
couplet written at the bottom of the page and having no 
connection with the poem itself, 

"My name is Frenche, to tell yo" in a worde 

Yet came not in with Conqueringe William's sworde." 

These words, as we have seen,^ have caused the few who 
have glanced at this work much confusion; indeed, it was 
these two lines that deterred Mr. HalUwell-PhilUpps, and 
probably Mr. Grosart and Mr. Bullen, from attributing 
The Newe Metamorphosis definitely to John Marston. 

This couplet was evidently jotted down as an after- 
thought. On the same foUo the author addresses his 
"Booke," and directly above these two verses is the begin- 
ning of "The Epistle dedicatorie." J. M. knew, without 
doubt, that his initials, J. M., would tell his public the 
identity of the author. If /. M. were Markham, he had 
ah-eady, even before 1600, won an enviable place for popu- 
larity among his contemporaries. If the title-page were 
Written in 1615, the time of the completion of the manuscript 
from internal evidence, he occupied even a more assured 
position among those vending their wares among the various 
pubhshers.^ The author, in this instance, was indulging 

1 Examples of this are Vol. II, Book IV, fos. 71 verso ff., and 
Book VII, fos. 262 verso ff. 

2 Chap. II. 

' The date 1600 on the two title-pages and the crossing out and 
rewTiting of parts of these pages make it probable that they were 
written in 1600. 



134 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

in a bit of pleasantry with his future readers. He possessed, 
as we know, a fund of happy humor; he took dehght in 
indulging in a little innocent raillery concerning his French 
name, Gervase. He undoubtedly alluded to the French- 
English combination in his name in much the same spirit as 
Matthew Arnold, who also occasioned confusion to some too 
careful commentators, spoke of the " Semetico-Saxon " 
mixture of his.^ In both cases the reference is obvious. 

In addition, this short couplet smacks of an honest pride 
in family; it tells of the origin of the Markhams. We 
have seen how Claron, their ancestor, was a follower of 
Edward the Confessor, but how, in spite of the Conquest, 
he kept part of his lands in West and East Markham in 
Nottingham under the Norman retainer of William, Roger 
de Busli. His descendants took pride in their antiquity, 
and both the brother of Jervase and the later writers of the 
family genealogy mention conspicuously this fact of ante- 
dating the Conqueror.^ 

There is some possibiHty, however, that Jervase Markham 
may have referred in this couplet to the fact that the early 
ancestors of his family had called themselves Lords of Marc- 
ham and had written their name De Marcham for many 
generations. Personally, I feel the first explanation con- 
cerning his name Jervase being French in origin is the more 
plausible and is sufficient. 

The next point to be considered is the fact that J. M. 
gent, was a soldier, serving his queen in Ireland, in Flanders, 
and in the expeditions against Spain in 1596 and 1597.* 

^ Cf. Arnold, Study of Celtic Literature, and Notes and Queries, 
9 Series, No. 7, p. 77; Vol. VI, pp. 466, 491, 513. 

^ Francis Markham, Genealogy or Petigre of the Markhams; D. F. 
Markham, A History of the Markham Family; Sir C. Markham, 
Markham Memorials. 

3 Cf. Chap. Ill, pp. 73 ff. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 135 

That Markham was a soldier, we know; that he served in 
Ireland and in Flanders is a matter of record.^ It is most 
significant, however, that in Ireland he was stationed in 
Connaught. Sir John Harrington, his courtier-cousin and 
the godson of Ehzabeth, who served under Essex and was 
knighted by him in the campaign against Tyrone, writes 
to a friend that when the EngUsh forces in Ireland were 
divided, some were sent to Munster, "some to Lesly, many 
into the North and a few into Connoght; it was partly my 
hap, and partly my choice, for Sir Griffin Markham's^ sake, 
and three Markhams more to go into Connoght"^; and 
later he adds that the "three sons of my cousin Robert 
Markham of Cottam have in their several kinds and places 
offered me such courtesies, kindnesses, nay such services, 
as if they held me for one of their best friends in Ireland."* 

When it is recalled that J. M. also tells the reader he 
served in Connaught, that he frequently refers to its wild 
kerns and its scenery, that he places several of his stories 
in this environment, even relating how Galway, its principal 
town, was founded,* there seems to be some reason to assume 
that he was Markham. 

In addition to serving in Ireland and Flanders, J. M., 
as we have seen, took part in the storming of Cadiz. In- 
deed, he describes at length that expedition. No mention 
has been made of Markham taking part in this adventure. 
We know from contemporary records how it attracted the 
plumed and ruffled courtier, the reckless man of fortune, 

^ Markham, A History oj the Markham Family, p. 34; Cornelius 
Brown, hives of Nottingham Worthies, pp. 167-169, etc. 

'^ A cousin to Jervase and later implicated in the Bye Plot. He was 
a colonel of horse in tliis expedition. 

' Harrington, Nugae Antiquae, Vol. I, pp. 253-254. 

* Ibid., Vol. I, p. 260. The brothers were Francis, Jervis, and 
Godfrey. 

' Cf. Chap, in, pp. 76 ff. 



136 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

and, indeed, many of those who looked for glory and hazard 
under the inspiring leadership of the Howards, Vere, Ralegh, 
and Essex. Sir Francis Vere brought a thousand veterans 
from Flanders to help the English arms, ^ and Jervase Mark- 
ham, who had been serving under him, may have been one of 
these; or like his great contemporary, Donne, he may have 
been among those many "most worthy knights and gentle- 
men of great worth "^ who, craving excitement in those 
"spacious days," sought it against the Spaniard. 

But Markham has left us record in his prose works that 
he had visited both Spain and the Azores. Spain, even 
after the treaty of peace in 1604, was not a safe place for 
English travelers, who frequently fell victim to the Inqui- 
sition,' and only in rare instances did a Protestant from the 
despised British Isles venture to hazard the danger. Con- 
sequently, it can be advanced with a degree of certainty that 
when Markham, a professional soldier, serving under both 
Essex and Vere, tells his readers "I have for mine own part 
seen in the Island of Azores, certain very large caves, or 
pits made under the earth ... for mine own part, I my 
self digged up many of these pits " ^ in order to see how corn is 
preserved; that "I my self observed both in Spain and in 
the neighboring Islands"^ the growing of lentils; and how 
goats are preserved in Spain and the Island of Azores "for 
the chase and hunting," ^ he probably followed his leaders 
in the expedition against Cadiz and the Azores, and in this 

1 C. R. Markham, The Fighting Veres, p. 218. Sir William Monson 
says that "one thousand of the prime soldiers of the Low Countries 
followed Vere in the Azores expedition. Cf. Churchill, A Collection of 
Voyages and Travels, Vol. Ill, p. 172." 

2 Hakluyt's Voyages, London, 1810 ed., Vol. II, p. 19. 

' J. G. Montague, History of England, 1603-1660, p. 53. 

* Markham's His Farewel to Husbandry, London, 1684, pp. 90-91. 

5 Ibid., p. 98. 

^ Markham, Cheap and Good Husbandry, p. 96. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 137 

way observed those customs which he later spoke of in his 
several pamphlets. 

And so /. M., the soldier, serving in Spain, Ireland, and 
Flanders, may well be Jervase Markham, soldier, adven- 
turer, and scholar, following the fortunes of war in the same 
lands. 

It has also been shown that J. M. was a Puritan or, at 
least, had sympathy for that rapidly growing and harshly 
lampooned sect,i and that frequently in The Newe Metamor- 
phosis he not only defends the sober descendants of Martin 
Marprelate, but he also surprises the reader of some of his 
flagrantly obscene stories by his devout and childlike faith 
in God. Markham, also, is conspicuous for a tranquil, 
quaint piety, so refreshing and simple that it lends much 
charm to his counsels to the horseman, the farrier, the 
housewife, the angler, and all the varied company whom he 
addresses. Even the ''Labourer" in the most humble 
of field work is directed "to go about all with prayer and 
composedness of spirit."- Examples of this quiet faith 
are legion. In one of his happiest pamphlets,^ in speaking 
of angling, he says the sport which is the "most comely, 
most honest, and giveth the most hberty to Divine Medi- 
tations and that without all question is the art of Angling 
which having ever been most hurtlessly necessary, hath been 
the sport of Recreation of Gods Saints, of most holy fathers, 
and of many worthy and Reverend Divines, both dead, and 
at this time breathing." A Kttle later he writes that "Dice- 
play, Cards, Bowls, or any other sport where money is the 
goal to which men's minds are directed, what can mans 
avarice there be accounted other then a familhar Robbery, 
each seeing by deceit to couzen and spoyl others of the bliss 

1 Cf. Chap. Ill, pp. 83 ff. 

2 Grosart, Fuller Worthies', Vol. II, p. 469. 
' Country Contentments, 1683 ed., pp. 47 ff. 



138 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

of means which God hath bestowed to support them and 
their famihes." ^ Again, in speaking of the "inward quah- 
ties" of a good angler, he says that in order to remove 
"melancholy, heaviness of his thoughts, or the pertur- 
bations of his own fancies" he should sing "some godly 
Hymn or Anthem, of which David gives him ample ex- 
amples." ^ The angler must also "ever think where the 
waters are pleasant, and anything likely, that there the 
Creator of all good things hath stored up much of plenty." 
Again in his The English House-wife, Markham tells the 
reader that the "Mother and Mistress of the family" must 
above all things "be of upright and sincere Religion, and in 
the same both zealous and constant ... to utter forth by 
the instruction of her life, those fruits of good living, which 
shall be pleasing both to God and his Creatures. . . . 
But let your English House-wife be a godly, constant, and 
rehgious woman, learning from the worthy Preacher, and 
her Husband, those good examples which she shall with all 
careful dihgence see exercised amongst her Servants, . . . 
a small time, morning and evening, bestowed in prayers, 
and other exercises of Religion will prove no lost time at 
the weeks end." ^ 

Surely in these words speaks a devout man, one who 
carries his belief in his Maker into his daily activities. 
He may not be a Puritan ; but at least it is probable he was 
in sympathy with their earnest faith and resented the unjust 
attacks on them. 

This tone of unaffected piety colors even his early poetry; 
The -poem of Poems, or Sions Muse, The Teares of the Beloved, 
and Marie Magdalen's Lamentations show this interest in 
religion. The conclusion to his words "To the Christian 

^ Country Contentments, p. 48. 

2 Ihid.i p. 60. 

2 The English House-wife, p. 2. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 139 

Reader," prefacing The Teares of the Beloved, is of interest 
in this connection. Markham writes, "The Highest con- 
tinue His favors and graces unto His Church, and shield us 
in these dangerous dayes from His and our enemies, Amen."^ 
He wrote these words in 1600 when England, especially 
puritan England, feared a return to Roman Catholicism. 
EUzabeth, old and feeble, was more than ever the center of 
intrigue; Essex, his campaign in Ireland a failure, threat- 
ened open rebellion ; Spain seemed planning another attempt 
at invasion, and, aided almost openly by papists in England, 
was aiming to keep the succession from the Protestant 
James. Indeed, so fearful were the Puritans of this that at 
the queen's death in 1603 they embarked in boats to prevent 
a popish invasion from Flanders.^ 

And Markham also resembles J. M. in the intermingling 
of ribald jest and coarse tales with earnest attacks on social 
and moral abuses. He can turn with zest from religious 
poetry and expressions of faith in God to the calculating 
cynicism of the bawd, Collaquintido, and the revolting 
filth of the clerk. President.^ The attacks on swearing, 
gambling, excessive drinking, disrespect to parents in juxta- 
position to hcentious tales are found so frequently in both 
the manuscript and in his accepted works that even to the 
casual reader The Newe Metamorphosis seems to resemble 
the work of Markham. 

J. ilf.'s devotion to Essex is also connected with his 
attitude toward the Puritans, since Essex was the accepted 
leader of this party and the most bitter and relentless op- 
ponent of Spain. It was Essex who for several years kept 
in secret communication with the young king of Scotland, 
fostering his succession in England. J. M., as we have seen, 

1 Grosart, Fuller Worthies', Vol. II, p. 492. 
^ Trevelyan, England under the Stuarts, p. 75. 
' The Dumbe Knight. 



140 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

praised Essex ^ in the strongest terms, denying that he was 
a traitor, even in spite of the court's disapproval of any 
mention of the ill-starred favorite.^ But Markham, if he 
were J. M., had even additional reasons to express this 
admiration. As we know, he had served under Essex in 
Ireland and had possibly fought with him in France.^ He 
translated from the French Devoreux or Vertues Teares, a 
lament for Walter Devoreux, the brilliant younger brother 
of Essex; he dedicated Sions Muse to Essex' stepdaughter, 
the child of Sidney; and later in life he included Essex in 
his Honour in his Perfection,^ together with his friend and 
comrade, the Earl of Southampton. He had many reasons 
to praise the brilliant Essex, indeed, to be grateful to him. 
He paid his debt in the only way in his power. This loyalty 
to Essex, found in both the work of Markham and in the 
manuscript, strengthens the belief that Markham was J. M. 
The next point to be considered scarcely needs discussion. 
J. M. knew the country and its pursuits, and he loved trees, 
flowers, and herbs, possessing a fund of quaint learning con- 
cerning their practical uses.^ He was a lover of the out-of- 
doors, a man of abounding vitaUty and with a catholicity 
of interests, especially in rural affairs. Markham, as we 
know, gained his reputation and probably earned his hveU- 
hood because of his intimate knowledge of country life. 
His amazing number of treatises on the horse, his pamphlets 
on husbandry, his works on country recreations, cures for 

1 Cf . Chap. Ill, pp. 87 £f. 

2 The disapproval of Essex continued for several years after his 
execution. Daniels' Philotas was suppressed in 1606 because of its 
commendation of Essex. The passage written by J. M. comes in 
what seems to be early work. 

3 Francis Markham tells us in his Memorials of his receiving a 
captaincy from Essex in France. 

4 1624. 

5 Cf. Chap. Ill, pp. 88 ff. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 141 

cattle and recipes for the housewife are well known. The 
significant fact is that J. M. possesses the same wealth of 
information and the same kind of information. Mark- 
ham's charming advice to the angler/ that he "ought to be 
a general Scholler, and seen in all the Liberal Sciences," 
is not only loosely paraphrased by that most delightful of 
all fishermen, the gentle Walton, but also in the playful 
lines already quoted from The Newe Metamorphosis in which 
the rude Martin is told, 

ffishing's an Arte.^ 

And there are innumerable instances of this kind. J. M.'s 
frequent lists of incentives for lust ' are found almost paral- 
leled in President's recommendations to the miserly Prate.* 
Markham ^ tells his reader to use "chast thoughts" in June; 
in July to shun "Wine, Women" and all "wantonness"; 
and in August to beware of "feasts" and all excitement. 
J. M. warns us that three months after May "faire Venus 
is forbid to play."** The fondness for flowers and herbs and 
their uses,^ the pleasure in animals, the interest in tillage, 
the delight in quaint lore found so abundantly in the manu- 
script, all add to the conviction that Markham is the author 
of The Newe Metamorphosis. 

The fact that /. M. was a man of wide readmg, that he 
knew many languages, referring to books in French, Italian, 
Latin, and Spanish,* is true not only of Markham but also 
of many of his contemporaries. The reference, however, 

^ Country Contentments, p. 60. 

2 Cf. Chap. Ill, p. 93. 

3 Cf. Chap. Ill, p. 98. 

* The Dumbe Knight, p. 427. Dodsley, Old Plays, 1780. 
6 Farewel to Husbandry, 1684, pp. 123 fif. 
6 Vol. I, Part II, fol. 10. 
' Cf. Chap. Ill, pp. 95 ff. 
8 Cf. Chap. Ill, p. 102. 



142 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

to many names, especially of writers of former centuries, so 
common in the manuscript and in the accredited works of 
Markham, is of significance; for this assumption of authority 
based on extensive consultation of sources is typical of the 
work of both J. M. and of Markham. In The Newe Meta- 
morphosis frequent references are made to classical authors, 
to writers of chronicles, and especially to Church authorities, 
but sources for the more popular material are not mentioned. 
This same thing is true of Markham. He is a clever and at 
times an unscrupulous pilferer of other men's work; but he 
is also most ready to concede that he has a source, especially 
if such a concession might make his wares of more import- 
ance. PUny, as also in The Newe Metamorphosis, is often 
referred to in the pamphlets, and other classical authors 
are mentioned.^ Former writers on agricultural subjects 
are frequently named. In the space of a page, in a treatise 
of how to enrich the soil,^ he refers to Sir Walter Henly, a 
former authority on husbandry, and quotes in Latin from 
Columella. The title-page to his Maison rustique, or The 
Country farme,^ is characteristic; he tells the reader that it 
was first "compiled in the French tongue by C. Stevens 
and J. Liebault," but that it is "now new revised, cor- 
rected, and augmented . . . out of the works of Serres, his 
Agriculture, Vinet, his Maison Champestre . . . Allyterio 
. . . Grillo . . . and other authors." Truly this is an im- 
posing list of names. French, Spanish, and Italian are im- 
partially included to impress the buyer with Markham's 
mastery of his subject. 
When we turn to The Newe Metamorphosis ^ we meet 

1 Example: The Inrichment of the Weald of Kent, pp. 6, 12, 1683 
edition. 

2 Ibid., pp. 9-10. 3 1616. 

4 Cf. Vol. I, Part II, Book X, and Vol. II, Book X. The long list of 
authors and of books concerning the Church in Vol. II, fos. 53 verso ff., 
is an admirable example. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 143 

again this pleasure, scarcely unctuous because it is so naive, 
of displaying an acquaintance with a remarkable variety 
of sources drawn from many lands. J. M. speaks with the 
same tone of authority; he demands from his reader the 
same admiration for his infallibility in his field; he over- 
whelms his audience. As the "barker" of to-day forces 
at least a grudging attention from the passer-by and often 
wheedles even from the wary a coin or two, so J. M., like 
Markham, compels attention and a certain unwilhng respect 
by his clever marshahng of pretentious names. 

Then, too, the fact that J. M. speaks of Cambridge as 
England's "most famous University" and mentions only 
three of its colleges. Trinity, St. John's, and Queen's Chapel,^ 
is interesting in connection with what we know of Markham. 
Markham's home was not many miles north of the great 
university, and he must have visited it often both in travel- 
ing to the capital and for other causes. He had every reason 
to honor Cambridge; Essex, his general and patron, went 
to Trinity, and his brother Francis tells us in his Memoranda 
that his father "put me to Trinity College in Cambridge,'' 
but because he "contemned" his tutor he "went to y® 
warrs." Indeed, Jervase himself may have been a student 
at this university. His knowledge of the classics and even 
his sympathy for the Puritan cause would add strength 
to this supposition. There is no record left at Trinity 
College of his brother Francis'* enrollment; - that of Jervase 
may also have been lost. 

The statements of J. M. that he is a poet, indeed a "poore 
poet" and a writer of " course Ryme," and that he has earlier 
sought public recognition with verse, but that his "purse 
was bare," also agree with what we know of Markham. 
Like the author's mention of Cambridge, this agreement 

1 Cf. Chap. Ill, p. 103. 

2 Athenae Cantabrigienses mentions no Markham. 



144 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

does not materially strengthen the argument that /. M. 
and Markham were one, but it assuredly removes any 
discrepancy and shows that in all the references in the 
manuscript to the author there is nothing to weaken the 
assertion that Markham wrote The Newe Metamorphosis. 
Markham also had written poetry before 1600. He had 
published by the beginning of the new century his Thyrsis 
and Daphne,^ The Most Honorable Tragedie of Sir Richard 
Grinvile, Knight,'^ The Poem of Poems, or Sions Muse,^ 
Devoreux, or Vertues Teares,^ and The Teares of the Beloved.^ 
Indeed, since many of the quotations assigned to him in 
England's Parnassus cannot be traced in his extant work,^ 
it is probable that besides Thyrsis and Daphne additional 
work of Markham has been lost. In his pamphlets, as it 
has been pointed out, he emphasizes with delight his eminent 
quaUfications to write on the subject concerned. But in 
his verse he assumes a different attitude; with apparent 
sincerity he takes on the humility of J. M. In spite of the 
fact that he had won recognition for his poetry, he calls his 
Muse "harsh and untuned," his talent ''slender and simple," ^ 
and he writes to his kinsman who had called him a "poeticall 
lyinge knave" that the love of poetry, "thoughe in others 
it be excellent, in myself I loathe and utterlye abhor it."* 
Modesty and self-deprecation among authors were not 
general in the time of Markham; but with Markham as the 
J. M. of the manuscript, we can understand the references 
in the prologue to "Myne infante Muse" and "my newe- 
borne poesie," and to the many slighting lines concerning 
his poetical gift. 

1 Entered in the Stationers' Register, 1593. 

2 1595. 3 1595. ^ 1597. ^ igoo. 
^ Cf. England's Parnassus, ed. Charles Crawford, p. xliii. 

' Cf. The Teares of the Beloved, Grosart, Fuller Worthies' Library, 
Vol. II, p. 492. 

* Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65\ 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 145 

The fact that J. M. appears to be a devoted son to a much 
loved father ^ is equally true of Jervase Markham. Con- 
cerning his love for his father, we know that he had much, 
respect and affection for him. His first extant work, A 
Discourse of Horsmanshippe, is dedicated to Robert Markham 
of Gotham, and in the letter, already mentioned, he writes 
to the uncle who maligned him that he was "trulye my 
father's sonne, so have I trulye a feelinge of my father's 
indignities." ^ A frank, generous man was Jervase Mark- 
ham, attractively human in his strength and weakness. 
His defense of his father accords well with his unaffected 
piety and makes his reader forgive much of his harmless 
bluster and swagger. And when J. M. exclaims concerning 
unnatural sons: 

I would not banish them that thus should deale 

least parents indulgence, in tyme should heale 

this plaugey scare, & then rewake againe 

but in a boate I'de set them on the mayne 

w[i]thout or sails to drive, or meate to eate 

bound hande & foote, 't would pull downe stomacks greate 

and make these monsters of man kynde forbeare 

if not for love, yet at the least for feare. 

Not w[i]thout cause men say, love doth discende 

downe to the childe, but backward not ascence 

but shall sonnes therfore thus unnaturall prove? 

is this the recompense of paternall love? ^ 

siu-ely it may be Markham who arraigns "this enormous 
vice." Indeed, it is possible that in this passage, in which 
he is telling the story of an ungrateful eldest son, he might 
have had in mind that "fatal unthrift," his own eldest 

1 Cf. Chap, in, pp. 103 ff. 

2 Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 

3 Vol. II, fol. 105. The writer continues at much length with ex- 
amples of good sons. He starts with "Eneas." 



146 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

brother, Robert, who utterly ruined the fortunes of his 
family.^ 

The next point to be considered is the statement of J. M. 
that he Hved on the "outmost side" of the East Angles.^ 
The territory of the East Angles not only comprised the 
modern counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridge, and Ely,' 
but it extended north and west over the vast expanse of 
marshlands to the higher ground of Nottingham.* Floria- 
censis, writing in about 970, says that East Anglia is almost 
surrounded by water.^ It has the ocean on the east and 
southeast, and in the north an immense tract of morass 
which rises near the center of England and falls from the 
level of the country to the ocean in a course of more than 
one hundred miles. The "outmost side" of the East Angles, 
"yet not in Essex," necessarily leads one to the conclusion 
that J. M. lived near Newark-upon-Trent, the northwestern 
border of East Anglia. As Markham was born at Gotham 
and undoubtedly spent much of his life in the vicinity of 
this little village, a few miles south of Newark, J. M., in 
this instance, seems to give additional evidence that he 
might be Jervase Markham. 

The last point to be considered — the homely, vernacular 
style — scarcely needs discussion. The charm of Markham 
in his prose works and in most of his narrative verse is this 
homely simplicity, this fondness for the rugged vernacular 
of his forefathers who did not "come in" with the Con- 
queror. The Newe Metamorphosis is essentially a collection 
of stories, not told in the stilted, affected fashion of The 

1 Thoroton, History of Nottinghamshire, Vol. I, p. 344. 

2 Cf. Chap. Ill, p. 104. 

3 Lingard, History of England, 1912, p. 16 and map, p. 18. 

* Cf. Greene, The Conquest of England, 1884 edition; the map, 
p. 316, shows East Anglia almost touching the Trent at Newark. 

* Camden, Britannia, p. 152. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 147 

Teares of the Beloved or the Sir Richard Grinvile, both written 
by an ambitious young aspirant for fame, but expressed 
with all the racy vigor of the Markham at home with his 
subject and understanding his audience. And not only 
is its colloquiahsm that of Markham, but the folklore, the 
proverbs, the pithy turns of expression, which are found so 
abundantly in The Newe Metamorphosis and lend it flavor, 
are all typical of him. 

But even the dehght in classical allusions and heavy con- 
ceits which mars the serious poetical work of Markham 
can be found in The Newe Metamorphosis. Reference to 
the mythology of Greece and Rome becomes wearisome 
and, at times, puzzles the readers; for frequently some love- 
seeking divinity is called by several names. And when the 
author attempts a "grand manner," he betrays all the faults 
of Markham's early verse in the labored metaphor and the 
bizarre conceits,^ interrupted by strikingly homely and 
characteristic lines, devoid of all the hit and melody of poetic 
inspiration. 

In this connection, it is interesting to compare The Teares 
of the Beloved with the stanzas in The Newe Metamorphosis, 
written by an ardent lover to his cruel mistress.^ These 
hnes are the only exception to the couplet in which the 
manuscript is written. Its stanza, made famous by Shak- 
spere in Venus and Adonis, is the same as that of Markham's 
two sacred poems, and the ahnost exclusive prevalence of 
the mascuUne rime, the clogged movement of the verse, 
the prosaic expressions, the labored ornamentations in these 
poems, are markedly similar in spite of the widest divergence 
of subject. 

^ Examples: the prayer of thanksgiv'ing of Elizabeth after the 
defeat of the Armada, and the eulogy of the queen, Vol. I, Part II, 
fos. 135 verso ff. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 17 ff. 



148 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

I quote two stanzas at random from the manuscript and 
from The Teares of the Beloved: 

"Of rocky substance did Pigmalion 

make a faire woman, was 't not wondrous strange? 

O fairer creature's nowe turn'd to a stone 

from her senceless deedes will never change 

senceles of my soules vexed misseries 

caused by beauties charmed witcheries. 

Grante, grante yee gods, that her harde diamond harte 
may metamorphosed be to softest mould 
greate Cupid thou helpe w*'^ thy burning darte 
she burne w*'^ heate, rather than frize w*^ colde 
grante, grante, yee heavenly powers this my request 
w°^ if you doe I shalbe ever blest." ^ 

"My sweetest Sweete, my Lord, my love, my life, 
The World's brighte lampe, farre clearer then the sunne, 
What may this meane ; cannot I end this strife. 
This ranckorous spight, by wicked Jewes begunne? 

man most pure, for wretches most forlorne. 
Must my great God to men be made a scorne? ^ 

Suffer my speech, who suffer now with grief e : 
Death void of death ; for death here liveth still : 
Barr'd from all hope, shut out from all reliefe. 
Most sad complaints, my hearing now doth fill; 

1 have no rest, but in unrest remaine : 

No tongue, or penne, can well declare my paine." ^ 

In conclusion, it is evident that whenever the manuscript 
becomes autobiographical or plainly indicates the prefer- 
ences and the temperament of its author, it seems to point 
to Markham. Markham had the right by birth to call 

1 Vol. II, fos. 17 ff. 

2 Grosart, Fuller Worthies', p. 526. 

3 Ibid., p. 519. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 149 

himself a gentleman, and he signed himself J. M., I. M., 
G. M. indiscriminately; in fact the entry of his burial calls 
him Jarvis Markham; his name was French, and still his 
family did not come to England with the Conqueror; he 
was a soldier, serving in Spain, Flanders, and in Connaught, 
Ireland; he was a man of simple piety, in sympathy with 
the Puritans, and an admirer of Essex; he was an outdoor 
man, knowing the problems of the agricultural laborer, the 
pursuits of the country gentleman, and he possessed a 
fund of quaint knowledge concerning horticulture and of 
traditional folklore; he was a man of wide reading with 
a fondness of displaying unusual sources of information; 
he preferred Cambridge to Oxford, and Trinity College he 
selected for particular mention: he was also devoted to his 
father; he was a poet conscious of his limitations, who lived 
on the "outmost" border of East Anglia; and he possessed 
a simple, colloquial style, often hampered by an excessive 
use of classical allusions. 

There are some additional reasons, suggestive if not au- 
thoritative, why we may ascribe this manuscript to Mark- 
ham. For instance, when Miss Toulmin-Smith ^ asserts 
that one who was notorious for his thefts from others could 
not be the author of The Newe Metamorphosis because of the 
Unes in the Prologue: 

to filchinge lynes I am a deadly foe, 

she really advances a strong argument in favor of Markham, 
who, conscious of his shortcomings, was constantly pro- 
claiming in his ingenious prefaces innocence of this very 
offense. An example of this can be found in several of his 
treatises where he denies I'epeating what he had written 
earher or disclaims plagiarism, in spite of the fact that he 

^ The Shakspere Allusion-Book, Vol. II, p. 483. 



150 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

repeats almost verbatim what can be found in his other 
works. He writes in one place: 

To the best disposed Readers 

Many and sundry may be the constructions and censures of 
this Booke (Courteous and well disposed Reader) because I have 
in former time written so largely of the subject contained herein; 
but I would have no man mistaken in his own prejudicate opinion, 
but truly understand, that this is neither Epitome, Relation, Ex- 
traction, nor Repetition either of mine own, or any Author whatso- 
ever.^ 

And again, in His Farewell to Husbandry j"^ he asserts: "nor 
do I in this Book intend to write any title that is in them 
[former works] contained; for as I love not Tautology, so 
I hate to wrong my friend." 

Markham protests overmuch his honesty. The Sta- 
tioners' Register Company, as has already been mentioned, 
attempted to curtail his unscrupulous deceit of the public.^ 
Surely he was the man who would virtuously proclaim : 

to filchinge lynes I am a deadly foe. 

In the next place the letter of Markham to his uncle, 
who had called him a "poeticall andlyinge knave,"* although 
it is, most unfortunately, not in script, but is written with 
great care and skill in print letters, still throws interesting 
light on the question of authorship. J. M., as we can see, 
was proud of his skill as a penman. The many flourishes 
and the different scripts in The Newe Metamorphosis, and, 
indeed, the legibility and clearness of the long manuscript, 
all make this evident. This letter, carefully composed and 
sent to an irate uncle, bears evidence of labored effort both 

^ Country Contentments, 1683 edition. 

2 1684 edition, p. i. 

3 "24th daie of July, 1617." 

* Cf. Grosart, Fuller Worthies' Library, Vol. II, p. 473. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 151 

in its wording and in its appearance. The printing is excel- 
lent, and it is of importance to us in determining the author- 
ship of the poem, because, in spite of the fact of not being 
in script, the slant, the formation of the letters, especially 
of the capitals, and its individualities can all be found in 
The Newe Metamorphosis. J. M. has a marked and repeated 
tendency to continue the downward slope of the capitals 
such as A, M, F, T, etc., with a sharp angle to the right 
upon the line. This eccentricity is found in the letter,^ 
especially in the capital A. This characteristic is so unusual 
that it strengthens materially the conviction that /. M. 
is Markham. 

The rancorous hatred of Spain which constantly inter- 
rupts the stories and crops out even in narratives con- 
cerning the pagan deities, although it was characteristic of 
the period, is also of interest in this connection. Markham 
had weighty reasons for this abhorrence. His leader and 
patron, Essex, was the chief of the adversaries of Spain in 
England, and furthermore, Markham's varied career as a 
soldier had brought him into actual conflict with Spaniards 
and their machinations, for even in Ireland Spanish gold and 
Spanish priests helped to inflame the volatile peasantry and 
the rebeUious earls. He had undoubtedly seen many in- 
stances of Spanish cruelty, especially in Flanders, and the 
vitriolic outbursts concerning the treachery and cruelty 
of the dangerous adversary of England, although they do 

1 Handwriting experts tell me that it is impossible to affirm with 
certainty that the printed hand and the script are the same. They 
agree, however, that the same mannerisms are found in both the 
letter and the manuscript, and believe that /. M. is Markham. Mr. 
Wilmer R. Leech, Manuscript Di\asion of the New York Public Li- 
brary, was especially struck by the peculiarity mentioned above. In- 
teresting pages for comparison are Vol. I, Part I, fos. 3, 20 verso, 36 
verso, 78; Part II, fos. 1 verso, 2 verso, 134 verso: Vol. II, fol. 142. 



152 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

not furnish any conclusive proof that J. M. was Markham, 
still strengthen the evidence already advanced. 

Furthermore the fact that in spite of J. M.'s detestation of 
the Papacy and its followers, and of the support lent to the 
schemes of Rome to undermine Protestantism in England, 
he speaks in only a few lines ^ of the so-called Bye Plot 
against James, in contrast to the many pages devoted to the 
iniquities of the Gunpowder Plot and other attempts against 
the life of either Elizabeth and James or against the Protes- 
tant faith, lends additional weight to the belief that Mark- 
ham was /. M. Sir Griffin Markham, the cousin of Jervase, 
and the most conspicuous member of his house, a haughty, 
restless soldier and follower of Essex, who was implicated in 
this uprising, sadly impaired the family fortunes, according 
to Francis Markham,^ "whereat our name disgraced." 
Although the author of the Bye Plot was a Roman Cathohc 
priest, William Watson, who was angered because James 
continued to levy recusancy fines against his coreligionists, 
most of those implicated were not of his faith. Ralegh 
had favored the Puritans; Lord Grey was a leader of the 
non-conformists; and Brooke, the brother of Lord Cobham, 
was a stanch Protestant.^ J. M. mentions the conspirators 
by names, deplores their "blacke conspiracie," and de- 
clares that death should be the punishment; still he turns, 
after a short half page, with apparent relief to the "Powder 
Treason" and hurls with unflagging zest anathemas at 
"Baynam," "Guydo Faulks," "Catsby," and especially 
Garnet, who had betrayed the Bye Plot to the king. 

Indeed, much of the fawning and servile praise of the 
unkingly James, which occurs at frequent intervals in The 

1 Vol. II, fol. 198 verso. 

2 Memoranda. Cf. D. F. Markham, A History of the Markham 
Family, pp. 31 ff. 

3 F. C. Montague, Political History of England, Vol. VII, pp. 7 ff. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 153 

Newe Metamorphosis ^ and cloys the reader, can be attributed 
to the fact that Jervase Markham, possibly himself sus- 
pected, was seeking pardon and renewed favor from his 
sovereign for his house. It is true that many of his greater 
contemporaries, especially at the death of Prince Henry, 
bartered self-respiect and even damaged their reputation 
in the gross flattery they offered to the Stuart king. Mark- 
ham had brilliant company in the role of sycophant. Still, 
I Hke to believe that his attainted cousin furnished a more 
legitimate cause for seeking recognition from the court than 
that offered to some.- 

We have seen that Markham helped in two plays, a 
comedy. The Dumhe Knight, and a tragedy, Herod and Anti- 
pater. J. M. also refers several times in a casual but in- 
timate way to the theater and to city life. In spite of his 
love for the country, he knew the town, as his vivid pictures 
of gambling, London bawds, and Lord Mayor processions 
all show. This familiarity with both the gayety of the city 
and the sports of the country gentleman is also peculiar 
to Markham who also was intimate with the life of the 
capital; indeed, he takes deUght in showing this knowledge 
in his many works. Even in the short letter to his uncle, 
which has already been referred to, he resorts to a reference 
to the theater. He writes that the enemies of the Mark- 
ham family take pleasure in their dissension, and "doe as 
in a theater sytt and laughe at our ech others devouringe."^ 

And even the lack of extended reference in the manu- 
script to contemporaries, which is a matter of regret to the 

1 Vol. II, Book X, fos. 197 verso ff., are excellent examples of this. 
James is "A glorious Sum." 

- The entries to the Stationers' Register, 1612-1613, are interesting 
in this connection. Chapman, Donne, Drummond, Wither, Campion, 
were among this number. 

' Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 



154 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

reader, is also, as it has been pointed out, typical of Mark- 
ham. J. M. may borrow from Sidney, Spenser, or the 
satire of the day, but he does not acknowledge his debt. 
When, however, he parallels with some closeness Venus and 
Adonis, he naturally brings the filthy clerk President in 
The Dumbe Knight to our mind, who also quotes at length 
from Shakspere's youthful amatory poem. Mr. Fleay ^ 
made the assertion, which never gained support, that Mark- 
ham because of certain dedications to Henry Wriothesley, 
Earl of Southampton, might be the rival poet to whom 
Shakspere referred.^ It has also been thought that Mark- 
ham by his use of Venus and Adonis was attacking Shakspere 
in The Dumbe Knight, especially censuring the salacious 
character of the Ovidian poem. But as Markham had 
published in 1593 a work ^ probably similar in character, 
and since he uses this poem in both The Dumbe Knight and 
in The Newe Metamorphosis, one may doubt any ulterior 
motive except a knowledge and an admiration for the verse 
of his contemporary. At least it is significant that in spite 
of the scarcity of reference to the writers of the time in both 
the manuscript and in the accepted works of Markham, 
both J. M. and Markham use with freedom the Venus and 
Adonis. 

And so even his denial of ''thefts from others," his letter 
to his uncle, his detestation of Spain, his slight reference to 
the Bye Plot, his knowledge of the stage, and his lack of 
references to contemporary authors in the field of belles- 
lettres, further strengthen the behef that J. M. was Jervase 
Markham and that the popular author of diverse works in 
prose, poetry, and drama sought to seek favor in a new 

1 Biographical Chronicle of the English Stage, pp. 59 ff. 

2 Cf. Shakspere's Sonnets, 78-86. 
^ Thyrsis and Daphne. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 155 

field ^ and possibly to enhance his reputation as a man of 
letters. 2 

Since it has been shown with some degree of probability 
that Markham is J. M., it is interesting to speculate again 
why an author, so anxious to bid for public recognition and 
so fertile in his resources, did not publish The Newe Meta- 
morphosis. There are possibly several reasons for this. 
In the first place, the work is often crude; it would need 
revision and Markham was a busy man. Then the very 
length of the manuscript, its rambling character, its annoy- 
ing digressions and multiplicity of motives, would cause 
most publishers to hesitate before undertaking a venture 
which presaged pecuniary loss. Drayton, a far greater 
poet, in spite of royal and influential patrons, struggled 
against despair in his efforts to interest an indifferent public 
in his Poly-Olbion. And Markham, in spite of an ingenuity 
almost amounting to genius in writing happy dedications 
and in seeking powerful patrons, would have encountered 
even greater obstacles. His poem was of greater length, 
and, in addition, was of such a nature that sponsors 
would be difficult to find. His animosity to Spain cropping 
out so frequently, though popular in 1600, would arouse 
bitterness in 1615, and possibly even lead to the suppression 

1 This manuscript is not altogether a new tjrpe of work for Mark- 
ham. In his additions to Sidney's Arcadia he assumed the role of a 
writer of stories. 

^ In the manuscript there are many attacks on the goldsmith. In 
Vol. I, Part II, fos. 28 verso ff., he states after a particularly severe 
attack, he means no offense and that he is a goldsmith. In Vol. II, 
fos. 154 verso ff., a goldsmith is again made a character in an obscene 
story. J. M. evidently hates the goldsmith, the usurer of the time. 
He says he is one probably in order to give him an opportunity to 
attack the craft. Marston makes sport of the goldsmith in Master 
Burnish in The Dutch Courtezan. Jonson in The Alchemist, Act. I, 
Sc. I, says that Drugger is "no goldsmith." 



156 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

of his work and to prosecution. His "booke," intended to 
be dedicated to "a queen," the ardent enemy of Spain and 
of Roman CathoHcism, could scarcely gain favor at the hands 
of a Stuart king who had frequently coquetted with those of 
his mother's faith, and who, in spite of bitter opposition at 
home, was wooing the former implacable enemy. Indeed, 
The Newe Metamorphosis, in spite of its servile tone towards 
James and the royal family, is daringly bold at times in the 
outspoken condemnation of existing abuses.^ The Mark- 
ham family had suffered in its fortunes from the exile be- 
cause of treason of Sir Griffin Markham. Jervase was 
shrewd ; he shunned trouble. 

But it is possible that Markham was deterred from publica- 
tion neither because of the extreme length of this manuscript, 
nor because of the bitter tone towards matters of royal con- 
cern. His Puritanism, always latent to a degree in his youth- 
ful works, but growing in the course of years in strength 
and conviction to a genuine, simple piety, would force him 
to recognize that the nature of the material of The Newe 
Metamorphosis was incongruous with his faith. The Mark- 
ham of 1615 was not the Markham of 1600. The gay 
narrator of salacious Ovidian tales and merry fabliaux had 
suffered a metamorphosis into a serious middle-aged EngUsh- 
man, struggling for a hveUhood and fearful for the future 
of his comedy. Impetuous youth had merged into re- 
flective age. The careless follower of Essex and Vere, 
the reckless soldier at Cadiz, the swashbuckling adventurer 
of many campfires, the chivalrous and lusty lover of "Ma- 
tilda faire" had become a champion of his country's faith 
and honor against plotters at home and treacherous machin- 
ations abroad. He was no longer the Markham of ribald 
tales of illicit loves; he was the Markham of the fiery dia- 

1 Vol. II has many examples of this. The plantations in Ulster and 
Virginia are attacked, the selling of honors, etc. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 157 

tribes against whatever is inimical to England. A man of 
courage always, he had become the patriot; an earnest, in 
a humble but honest way, of the overthrow of the despotic 
Stuarts, indeed, of the glory of England in her present 
struggle for the right. 
The rude couplet which concludes the manuscript, 

My leave I here of Poetrie doe take 
For I have writte untill my hande doth ake. 
Finis. ^ 

not only finishes The Newe Metamorphosis, but also announces 
Markham's farewell to the "feather-light"^ Muse at whose 
shrine he had modestly worshiped for many years. With 
characteristic grandiloquence and assumption of authority, 
he repeated at length^ before he wrote "Finis" the range 
of subjects treated in the thousands of lines. The labor of 
many years had come to an end. But was it a labor? 
Surely our author has poured out in these hastily written 
couplets his joy of youth and his meditation of age. The 
impetuous ardor of the Elizabethan adventurer, the daunt- 
less spirit so typical of those years of endeavor and achieve- 
ment, gradually give way to a bitter anger. He forgets 
the joyous intrigues of the easy-loving gods to become the 
loyal patriot and militant Christian. Still he always shows 
the intense curiosity for new experiences, the extravagant 
enthusiasm and valiant assurance so characteristic of his 
day; a day when literature was still to many an adventure 
or a means to political preferment; an era when men, their 
vaulting ambition recognizing no barriers, thought in con- 
tinents and wrote with the same lavish prodigaUty. He 
carries the stamp of his period. 

1 Vol. II, fol. 268. 

2 Letter in Lambeth Shrewsbury Papers (709, p. 65). 

3 Vol. II, fos. 267 ff. 



158 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

It is true that Markham in this work has levied con- 
tributions on all countries. Sources of the widest divergence 
have been drawn upon to furnish enjoyment or information. 
But chiefly in the many pages of The Newe Metamorphosis 
he has revealed to us himself. He has left us a human 
document of httle artistic worth when considered as poetry, 
but of some real importance as a record of a vital and trans- 
cendent age in the history of letters and of men. It may 
not add materially to our knowledge of that period, but 
it assuredly substantiates and at times amplifies our ac- 
quaintance with that crowded stage of Elizabethan Hfe 
and its galaxy of figures, Olympian in their splendid power 
and weaknesses. 

But The Newe Metamorphosis is worth consideration for 
other reasons. It gives to the student of literature a col- 
lection of stories, voluminous in bulk and comprehensive 
in theme, in which are found homely wisdom, engaging 
fun, scathing invective, generous admiration, simple devo- 
tion, and fervid patriotism. The manuscript, indeed, brings 
a new luster to the reputation of an interesting and attrac- 
tive personality. Markham has long been regarded as the 
authority of his day on rural occupations and recreations. 
He has given the student valuable information concerning 
the use of horses and the profession of the soldier. But 
in The Newe Metamorphosis he takes honorable place in 
another field in which he can justly claim an added appre- 
ciation. He may paint his canvas with a coarse brush, 
boldly splashing and smearing his effects; he may want 
subtlety and imagination; he may lack tenderness. Still 
his manly vigor, honest warmth, genuine appeal, and spon- 
taneous flow of vigorous, clear, and unstudied narrative 
give worth to the manuscript. The Newe Metamorphosis 
is of interest because it is the work of Markham; it is of 
value because of its own merits. 



CHAPTER VI 
SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

The Prologue ^ of The Newe Metamorphosis 

Uppon the pubUque stage, to Albions eye 

I here presente my newe-borne poesie 

not w*^ vaine glory puft to make me knowne 

or Indian-like w*^ feathers not myne owne 

to decke my selfe, as many use to doe 

to filchinge lynes I am a deadly foe. 

What then might make me undergoe this taske? 

t' unvizar those w''^ secretly doe maske 

in self-conceipt, & their lewde actions showe 

that all the world their villanies may knowe. 

Not peevish envies hateful! rodde to use 

and true-deservinge basely to abuse 

I scorne & hate, for vertue I would praise 

& vertuous men to heaven w*** poems raise 

mallice I beare to none who e're me reade 

for having spoken, all myne anger's deade 

Myne infante Muse, longe studieng what to wright 

at first resolved, some bloody warres t' endighte 

but Love casierd ^ that thought w*** his soft charme 

sayeing that warre's best, w^^ can doe noe harms 

my yeildinge mynde to him gave willinge eare 

but then straite wayes before me did appeare 

large volumes & whole libraries compleate 

of Love in lively colo''^, iyne & neate 

1 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 5 ff. 

^ Greene, Groatsworth of Wit, p. 28: "He was cassierde " — our 
cashiered. 

159 



160 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

w"^ dasht my former thoughts : and then thought I 

of Countryes strange I'le write a Historie 

the wicked world to lewdnes most enclyn'd 

banisht that thought as quickly as the wynde 

(the whirle wynde tempest) makes the dust to flie 

farre from the place where it before did lie 

and in rough Satyres, I did then intende 

w*^ smartinge lynes the world to reprehende. 

Nay then thought I, I may as well discover 

the cheatinge world under a comicke-lover 

for lovers lye, fawne, flatter & dissemble 

& doe indeed Theatrians most resemble. 

Then buskind Seneca, came to my mynde 

Tragedian-like, to write of deaths unkynde 

of government of States, cities & townes 

of Princes, Lords, of Peisants & of Clownes 

strange murderinge massacres, & poisons fell 

w''^ were devised by some foule feinde in hell. 

But this mee thought did not my humo"" fitte 

in these eche Pedant shewes his borrowed witte 

nay all of these I'le touche; both one & all 

not severally, but yet in generall 

even as a Flemish Gallemanfrey made 

of flesh, herbes, onyons, both of roote and blade 

so shall you fynde them in this booke conteinde 

for some strange thinge to write, I onely ay'mde. 

I ne're sawe any of o'" Nation yet 

that me a patterne in this subiecte set 

nor but one stranger, Ovid alone was he 

that in this labo'' did incourage mee. 

I from my harte doe hate the Parasite 

even as the man that vertue doth backbite 

what then is fitter for these impious tymes 

then yrefull Satyres, clad in rugged rymes 

harsh though my lynes be, yo" shall substance fynde 

yo^ that degenerating growe out of kynde 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 161 

but smoother much unto the innocente 
for such to please it is my cheife intente 
though I goe on but in a hobhnge ryme 
yet I may happe to meete w*** them some tyme 
whome better verse could never touche as yet 
& make them storme, & rage, & fume, & frette 
well, be it soe. I am content w*^ all 
sucke they sweete honey out of bitter gall 
I have noe Poets pleasinge smoth-fyl'd veyne 
but a ragg'd Satyrists rougher hewen straine 
I not affecte curiositie of words 
nyce elloquence my subiecte not affourds 
Satyres are clothed in rough hairy skinnes 
even such as I, they & my Muse are twnnnes 
nor yet will tyme p[er]mit me to bestowe 
more labo"" on them, the rather for I knowe 
bookes of this nature being once p[er]used 
are then cast by & as brayed ware refused. 
What subiecte then, thinke yo" I did finde out 
to shewe the world infected w*^ the goute 
w*^ pestilence, plague & rotten dropsie 
of Pride, Deceipte & itchinge Lecherie 
of superstition, Poperie & Treason 
the traders in w'^^ are quite voide of reason.^ 
Ingratefulnes & tongue-tipt-tatlers 
of Witchcraft, Lovers & damned Murderers 
& others moe? Their strange Mutation 
wrought by the Gods iuste Transformation. 
And first w**^ them as order doth require 
shape-changing-Jove, my feeble Muse enspire 
and let thy daughters & Mnemosines 
me of this heavy burden quickly ease 
Matilda fayre, guide thou my wandring quill 
who rul'est my harte, that vicious men & ill 
to their eternall shame I mscy disgrace 
& so extoll of righteous men the race,^ 

' This couplet is in the margin. 



162 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

my poore dull witte, richly doe thou inspire 
inflame my braine w*** Loves celestiall fyre 
that I may lively in my rymes expresse 
the secretst actions of rebyrednes 
and show the ugliest face of horrid vice 
that so here after it may none intice 
that I may vertues thine to th' world expresse 
for imitation, though thou art matchlesse, 
for beauty rare & spotles chastety 
well worth the praising to eternity.^ 
Gaynemed let me one cup of Nectar drinke, 
although I come not at the Thespian brinke 
Yo^ Graces thre, come to Lucinas ayde 
that noe abortive birth make men afraide 
and sweete Minerva be thou at this birth 
to give th' ingenious reader pleasing mirthe. 

Venus describes to Cupid the type of lover pleasing to 
women : ^ 

give me the Lad, that loveth ioUity 

that midnight revellings delighteth in 

that dares take any Ladie by the chin 

lay her on th' hppes, & w**^ fewe words embrace 

that dares stande forth to take a Ladies case 

that's not faint-harted, like a gawdy Gull 

one that will doe 't, before he sayes he will 

w**^ labouringe-Hyndes, may Cravens goe in rankes 

whose suite-free-service, is not worth our thankes. 

cowardly-fainte-harte, nere faire Ladie got 

they are unworthy, such a happie lot 

the bold adventerous spirite, he shall obteine 

when asse the bashfoole humblie sues in vaine. 

Loves-lymits are not bounded in modestie 

prescriptions, rules, & lawes they doe defie 

1 This couplet is in the margin. 

2 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 110 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 163 

for my best Soldier, boldly enter must 
into the lists, & straite begin to iust. 

But yet w[i]thall it doth us much behove 
that we take heede what servants we aprove 
all that p[ro3test their love, we must not take 
for some of them will make o"" harts to ake 
y'' Roaring-boyes, & all the Drunken crue 
my vailed Nuns must evermore eschewe. 



Mars woos the wanton nun Adiana : ^ 

I've bin a Soldier in hotte bloody warre 
wherin I got this bone-deepe-gaping-scarre 
faire flatteringe speeche we soldiers never use 
yet coyest Lasses, seldome us refuse 
we fitter are for action than for words 
'tis soldier-like to handle naked swords 
if for y"" Soldier you will enterteyne-me 
from kiUing battles I'le henceforth refreine-me 
He fight my battailes in y'' beautious campe 
I meane faire Venus sweete encounters, Rampe 
see that my pay be good, He freely fighte 
under y'' standard, or by day or nighte 
the fielde He pitch 's the feild bed where yo" lye 
if kild w*''^ kyndnes, there He [willing] dye. 

Ive strength & might, viewe well my brawny armes 
these shall secure yo^ from all future harmes." 

The following is from a story told by the "Surgeon" 
on the return voyage from Cadiz : ^ 

Customes though bad when they received be 
that th'are allowed we all plainely see 
ffantasticks often fashions doe devise 
& sober mynded men take up their guise 
1 Vol. II, fos. 47 ff. " Vol. II, fos. 138 ff. 



164 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Custome's an other lawe & goes for good 

for they embrace it w°^ against it stood 

all this I say from tufts of haire nowe used 

used (said I) nay monstrously abused 

upon their foreheads men must drakes tayles wears 

I meane a tuft of most unseemely heare 

some like a drakes taile close turnd to the head 

some bolt upright as men w*^ feare adread 

some w*^ longe locks w*^^ their bald pates doe cover 

some vowed locks to please their wanton lover 

as Tyme is pictur'd w*^ a Lock before 

so goe the riche so goe likewise the poore 

for th' poorest snakes will th' greatest imitate. 

This being a comon custome growne of late 

to weare longe foretoppes as most of yo" doe 

a clowne he's counted that w[i]thout doth goe. 

a plaine mechanicke fellowe followed it 

who neither had much wealth nor yet much witte 

comes from the Barbers where his haire was cut 

(in Fryday Streete he sawe a wondrous rut) 

w*^ his longe foretoppe standing bolt upright 

for such a Noddle an unseemely sighte. 

The author speaks of the good sense of Dulcimel and 
Amoretta in Arcadia : ^ 

If many had such states as had these two 
they would not like to country Shepeheards goe 
but like to Courtiers clad in silke & gold 
strout in puft pride, as full as they might holde. 
So nowe this ioUy, lovely, amarous payer 
had wealth & beauty more then many a gayer 
in gew-gawes & in garish wanton toyes 
they never plac'd, the least p[ar]t of their ioyes 
their clothing was of the most modest fashion 
they did not imitate ech forrein Nation 

1 Vol. II, fos. 26 ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 165 

apparrell handsome, seemely, neate, they use 

but welts & gardes, & tagges ^ they still refuse 

best cloth w[i]thouten lace, they ever weare 

in sobrest manner they did weare their heare 

both he & she, he smooth & seemly short 

not w*^ longe locks, th' abuse of Princes court 

nor yet was hers, laid out w*^ p[ear]le & gold 

curiously curld, w^^^ many a wanton fold 

nor did she weare the haire of Curtezans 

nor yet of Bauds (who former lightnes bannes) 

because more faire then hers, nor Beggars brattes 

[peo]pled w*^ Nittes, w*^^ growing beastly mattes, 

alas, she did not Tyre-makers haunte 

for devilish [perr]iwiggs that well might daunt 

even Mars himself should he o'' Ladyes meete 

w*^ borrowed haire, most Gallants would him greete 

Nay I mistake, it is their owne they weare 

they did it buy & paid for it full deere 



their Peakes & fronts, half moones & greate Rams-homes 
let them all weare that would be th' countries scornes. 



She neither paints her face, nor curies her heare * 

nor like a Goldsmiths wife doth lithping thweare, 

nor is behounc'd w*** lace, rebatos, piccadils 

w*^ monstrous bummes, nor yet w*^ short light heeles 

nor in the brave & newe Hie Mulier cut 

who in their hose & dublets themselves put 

their dublets trust w*^ poynts, stilletto by their side 

why doe o'' females pricke & pranke them so 
but that th' are vendibles that all may knowe. 

^ This word is blurred. 
2 Vol. II, fos. 29 verso ff. 



166 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

The author attacks the man who has bought knighthood: ^ 

When proude S'' Hadlande, had his knighthood boughte 

himseK a God, & not a man he thought 

being iust Squired, he was passing proude 

but nowe much more, being for a knight alow'd. 

it was my hap one tyme being on ship-bourd 

that he came hither stragging hke a Lorde 

I wore a hatcht sword. See, see nowe, (quoth he) 

that men that are but of meane degree 

weare silver on their swords w''^ lawe forbiddeth 

for unto knights it only that p[er]]mitteth 

'tis pity lawe's no better executed 

his hande on's sword he clapt, & so did I, 

but durst not drawe, fiie cowheard Hadland fie! 

My lande's as good as his was at the best 

I was myself a Gentleman at th' least 

nor was his father better nor yet he 

till w**^ his coyne he purchest his degree 

Men were accustomed that use to ryde 
upon their cloakes to weare on either syde 
a claspe of silver, 'twas a neate device 
but only 't would a hungery theife entice 
yet this brave Gallant bare a nobler mynde 
then Nobles did, who used but that kynde 
he had his fayre great claspes of yealowe gold 
the richest that for such er was sold 
one of o"" gay-greene-gallants was this knighte 
wearing a long-love-locke for his delighte 
this f onde fantasticke too, his cappe was greene 
a faire red feather in 't, as er was scene. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 71 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 167 

The author travels to hell in order to see the fate of the 
popes : ^ 

Yet I confesse I had a greate desyre 

to see what Popes were bathing in Hell-fyre 

only I fear'd Garnet, would me transporte 

to viewe his Masters glorious shyning court 

nor other meanes could I devise by w*^^ 

I might get thither, unles by some Witch 

so meting w*'' the ghost of Faulx his mother 

I did not th' healpe implore of any other 

She [pro]mised me thither to transporte 

where I at pleasure might se all the sporte 

I did request her I might there remaine 

untiU I wisht my self on earth againe 

that I from hurte might likewise be made free 

w"*^ she most solemnly did sweare to me 

w*^ that a bough she rent (from off an oake) 

of Mistletoe, & th' wronge syde of my cloak 

She turned outward, & put 't on my backe 

the bough into my hand & bid me packe 

w*^*^ that an excellent rare chymicall-oyle 

she gat out of a viole w*^ greate toile 

(for that the necke therof was longe & small 

and substance in it, was scarce none at all) 

made of the Honesty of an old whoare 

and th' seedes of Fearne, w*^"^ she did keep in store 

She dipt a branch of Eugh into the same 

njrne tymes she called Hecate by name 

3 tymes she turn'd her round to her right hand 

as often to her left, then made a stande 

then 3 tymes more she turnd her to her right 

then sent me packing in the dead of th' night 

in un-knowne language to her self she mumbled 

and I forthw[i]th Uke to a whirle-wynde, tumbled. 

1 Vol. II, fol. 212. 



168 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

The "Lady in Bed" tells the midwife and the visiting 
gossips of a former lover: ^ 

I being a pearle in amorous Putex eye 
he sued unto me for my deerest Jewell 
and w*** my presence oft enflara'd his fuell 
one while he wisht that he were made a Glove 
to kisse my handes, so to expresse his love, 
the Chaine of pearle that compassed my necke 
that so he might embrace it w[i]thout checke 
or to a precious Belt of beaten gold 
that so he might me in his armes enfold 

or if a creature having sense & motion 

then Trym my Dogge, attending w*^ devotion 

because he often lay upon my lappe, 

where sometyme I did play w*^ him by happe 

but were I sure (said he) t' have my desyre 

I would I were a Flea, still to lye by-her 

then should she carry me where-ere I wente 

one smocke should hold us both, & we not pente. 

The aged Saturn falls in love with the very youthful 
LadyMay.2 He apes juvenility: 

for he began him seK to decke up fyne 

he oyld his face, that it might brightly shine 

w*** sweete p[er3fumes he went bepowdered so 

that in the darke one might him easely knowe 

he cald to have his lynnen washed white 

nowe in himseh he gan to take delighte 

he combd his heare, his beard he shorter cut 

in's fayrest richest robes himself he put 

he causd his Taylor a newe sute to make 

& carefully bid him his patterne take 

1 Vol. II, fos. 81 verso ff. ^ Vol. I, Part II, fos. 2 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 169 

his hoped ioye nowe maketh him to skippe 

no opportunity he letteth sUppe 

w*^'s Love to bill, & with her haire to plays 

and then he wisheth for his monthe of Maye. 

he lookes that th' seame on's hose doth rightly stande 

he often stroakes his leggs up w*^ his hande 



his shooes he caused to be wj'^ped blacke 
riche shooe-tye-roses, there he doth not lacke 
his garters frynged fayre w*^ pearle & gold 
here is a Laddie, if that he were not old 
a goodly feather he in 's cappe did weare 
he stroakes his beard, & stricketh up his heare, 

Bacchus, disguised as a youth, comes to London, where he 
meets an old bawd. She tells him of a maid "Putena 
hight," who, because she deceived Mercury, was transformed 
into Puten or tobacco: 

And Hermes seing 's Love insatiate 
in the same place where she comitted late 
her foule offence, converted her straite waye 
into that Herbe, that never shall decaye. 
Tff^^ by her name, he likewise cald Puten 
an herbe of most esteme amongst all men. 
As when she liv'd, she all men did bewitche 
that laye w*^ her, her pleasure then was suche 
even so likewise, they w""*^ the Herbe do take 
are still bewitcht, they can it not forsake 
but still insatiably the same they use 
whater we too much use, we doe abuse. 
But all men thus, her living, did desyre 
so doe they nowe, by lighting in the fyre 
the sacred Herbe & drawing in the smoke 
out of a pipe of silver ^ of claye, or oake. 

^ This word is blotted. 



170 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

this is the Herbe w°^ I doe give to yo" 
w[i3thin my garden there doth growe enough. 
But what's the vertue (quoth he to the Baude?) 
Of all Herbes growinge it deserves most laude 
(answered she then) — 'tis heavenly phisicke sure 
for it all kyndes of malladyes doth cure 
it heales y^ pocks, sir, and y"" running rheume 
y ''stincking breath, it sweetly doth p[er3fume 
y"" head-ache, tooth-ache, & y"" runing eyes 
& quickly cures venerian malladies 
y' goute, y' dropsie, & y'' giddy braynes 
y' pissing blood & running of the veynes 
y'' swelling some saye that it will restore 
it makes yo" purge, both backward & before 
upward & downeward is the comon speech 
to say the troth, yo"*^ neede no other leache 
who take this herbe Physicians helpe do scorne 
they live more healthfully then th' did beforne.^ 
Some Gallants take it on the publique stage 
other to drinke it, lay their cloathes to gage 
some spende as much in this same smoake a yeare 
as did their fathers in most needeful fyere 
yet many take it only but for fashion 
some to expell a mellancholy passion 
some to pull downe their fat & puft-up-bellye 
some to extracte their flegmaticke tough gellye. 
Cariers & Tapsters, Ostlers & Chamberlyns 
meeting at th' Ale-house, 'tis not worth two pinnes 
unlesse they make the roome of Puten smell 
sans it, their liquor tastes not haK so well 
tis comon growne, & every one doth use-it 
there is noe 'state, nor sex that doth refuse-it. 
He askt her, if 't were pleasant in the taste? 
yea if w*** some sweete oathes, it first be grac't, 

1 This couplet is written in the margin. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 171 

and 's made so pleasing being steept in liquor 

that th' weakest stomake cannot it abhor 

or by Gradinus ^ it is sweete & stronge 

it gives a pleasant farewell to the tongue. 

is 't Cane, or leafe, or ball, or puddinge, whether 

or Trynidado & of th' other neither? 

is it Barmudez or is it Virginia 

or els right Spanish, & the two Farina. 

or did it growe in Narbons neerest soyle? 

for they have made this poore, rich plant to toyle 

so many regions, south & west of this 

that our owne Nation knows not o''^ for this 

it is so bathd & steep't & stupified 

in hquors, strange, that I have it deny'de 

and sware it was not of the same that I 

had growing in my garden, when perdi ^ 

it was the very same, such forced power 

they doe infuze into it every hower. 

Some Petum call it, some La-royne-mere 

Tobacco, Petoun, and some Nicotiana. 

and some the soveraigne Herbe of Gods-divine 

some drinke it steeped in o'' whitest wyne 

that love not make their nostrils chymny tonnels 

nor take it out of pipes or smoaky funnels. 

Puten's the herbe w*'^ all men love amaine 

nowe in our language a Punck is Putain 

a whorish vertue still this herbe conteynes 

for from the same many derive great gaines 

no pleasure wQi^thout cost can nowe be had 

wenching & Puten maketh most men mad 

some call it Detrementum Veneris 

I rather thinke it Iritamentum is 

for that they most o"" companyes frequent 

(flesh they will have in Ope-tyde, or in Lente) 

w"** take this Herbe.' 

Mars. ^ par dieu. ^ Vol. I, Part I, fos. 39 ff. 



172 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Neptune loved the fair nymph Thames. Because of her 
unfaithfulness he drove her lover to "Cocytus shore" and, 

Thames he confyned w[i]thin straighter bounds 

to water Troynovants ^ rich pasture grounds 

who oftentymes as her affection moves 

doth folio we him, telling him that she loves 

begging a pardon for that one offence 

who churlishly w**^ rageing sends her thence 

and w*^ his boysterous surges makes her flee 

to London-bridge, w'^^ is her sanctuarye. 

A Bridge that's built of stone that's hewed square 

of all the bridges I e're sawe most rare 

in it are twenty Arches as they saye 

through ech of w*''^ the Tyde doth dayly playe 

ech arche conteynes in breadth full thirty foote 

'twixt w'''^ both Boates & bigger vessels shoote 

ech arche is twenty foote distant asonder 

threscore foote high, the easyer to goe under 

both sydes therof is housed all alonge 

w*^ Cellars and w*^ Shoppes mixed amonge 

that one a very streete the same would deeme 

were't not for prospects w'^^ theroft are seene 

it is a thousand foote in length at least 

and over Thames it standeth east and west.'^ 

Thames is pursued by a rough monster, Pons, who woos 
her in vain : ^ 

he did resolve an other meanes to trye 

his auncient course of lawlesse villanye 

even beast-like force: when nought els will prevails 

well worth a meanes that never yet did faile 

Who would stande sueinge in an abiecte sorte 

to a disdainefuU lasse, that makes but sporte 

^ London. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 52 verso ff. 

3 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 53 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS ] 7o 

of mouriiefuU elegies & sad lovers teares 
for puling suto''\ what lasse is 't that cares? 
the swaggering Ruffian that doth violence use 
the nycest Nymphe will never (scarce) refuse 
the cutting Shaver, that sweares wounds & blood 
was never of the chastest Nymphe withstood 
Thus did he harten on himself unto 
that impious acte he purposed to doe 
he therfore lying in wayte, on that same syde 
w*^^ we call Southwarke, coming he her spide 
all faynte & weary w*^ a carelesse gate 
w"^ she had like t 'have bought at deerest rate 
in 's boysterous armes he caught her coming by 
She shrieked out & w*^ loude voice did crye 
Jove seeing this, turnd her into the streame 
w*''' nowe is called Thames by her name 
and as Pons groveUng there upon her laye 
he him transform'd also w[i3thout delaye 
made him the Bridge of w'''^ I nowe did speak 
thus Jove on him his anger iuste did wreake 
but make him swell in bignesse and in length 
adorninge it w*^ beautye & w*^ strength 
(Tyme hath much more increast & beautifide 
this glorious building nowe on every syde.) 
this being an acte of such immortal fame 
all bridges are cald Pontes by his name. 
About the Arches, Thames doth play bo-peeke 
w*^ any Troian or els Merry-Greeke 

She is a bounteous benefactor to the pore 
she maynteines many hundreds of the Oare ^ 
many are set on worke the thred to spin 
many to knit netts to catch fishes in 
many that Uve w*^ angling in the same 
She kepeth many foules both wylde and tame. 

^ boatman. 



174 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

When as her silver sands do drye appeare 
in lowest eb, why then w*^ merry cheere 
the schoole-boyes skippe & play upon the shore 
where erst they sawe no ground appeare before 
and when the tyde doth there returne againe 
the welkyn being cleere, skye void of rayne 
then there they wash & bath their tender lymbes 
some by the shore doe wade up to the chinnes 
others, their fayre white bodyes nymblye drives 
as if they swam to save their deere freinds hves 
seeminge t' outstrippe the waves in their swift course 
and in that pleasant art, shewe cuninge force. 
One turns him there & swyms upon his backe 
shewing the fish, an arte w^^ they doe lacke. 

Some pleasure take, to stande in bordering feild 
to heare Tamisis echoing voice to yeilde 
the f ayrest Nymphes of all the Faiery-lande ^ 
doe often walke upon her pleasant sande 
who richly tyr'd in precious perle & gold 
w[i3thin the liquid waves them selves infold 
to meete w**^ other Water-Nymphes abroade 
whilest on the waves, the Oares lay on loade. 
Sometyme the Queene ^ of that same Faiery lande 
doth unto Thames reache her fayrest hande 
that shee may kisse it; & for her more grace 
when she removeth oft from place to place 
she will not goe w[i]thout her Thames deere 
who feasteth her & makes her royall cheere 
and proude she is, more then of ought besyde 
that Gloriana on her backe will ride. 
Some to their Ladies fayre, sweet musique make, 
that all the neighbouring Nymphs may it p[er]take 
w*** Cornet, or w*^ Trumpet sounding shrill 
that Tritons self, amazed standeth still 

1 England. ^ Elizabeth. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 175 

by Neptunes syde. But others softly playe 
on stringed instruments that be so gaye 
on Cytterne, Gitterne, Viole & on Lute 
and some with courage givinge Drum & Flute. 

Her bancks are buildings of no meane esteeme 

being princely graced, by a resplendant queene. 

and all the great e Magnifiques of the lande 

w''^ there in rankes & rowes together stande 

on either syde, both on the south & north 

her sumptuous buildings, sets her honor forth 

for richer Piles, Europe affourdeth not 

Nature & Tyme gave Thames this happy lot. 

Whitehall on North, on South stands Greenewich fayre 

of princely seates the most frequented payre 

for their so pleasant & swete scituation 

their walkes are troade most of the EngUsh nation 

& for the esaye & facile accesse 

to such as thither pretende busynes. 

That proude ambitious stately Cardinall ^ 

did first foundation laye & built Whitehall 

but Greenewitch is the auncient seate of Kings 

& there was borne the Sainte that sweetliest singes * 

Greenewitch renouned for birth of Glorian 

heaven blest that kingdome, in that more then woman. 

Upon the North doth famous London stande 

by east of that cheife ffortresse of the lande 

the glorious Tower w*'^ Julius Caesar built 

O'relooking-Paules, & rich-wrought- Westmynster 

are Temples of cheife note w*'^ they prefer 

before the rest, for rareties of structure 

for largenes & for richest Arch'tecture 

That Greshams worthy worke, Royall Exchange 

Cheife place of bargaine & of newes most strange 

1 Wolsey. 2 Elizabeth. 



176 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

The Waterworkes & Conduits goodly fayre 
where longe in earth being pent, it taketh ayre. 
The many gorgeous houses of the Peeres 
w''^ still increase in number as the yeares. 
On the West syde, houses of Justice stand 
Westmynster hall, & then fast by at hand ^ 
th' Exchequer's there moe offices besyde. ^ 

The author attacks drunkenness: 

To Stratford-house, unto the Greene-goose-fayre 
a world of people one day did repayre 
both poore & riche, men hkewise old & younge 
mixt w**^ the males, the females came among 
the season of the yeare as usually 
was parcliing hotte, the wether scorchinge-dry 
Hay-makers, Mowers, thither did repaire 
compeld by th' soultry-hot-fyre-breathing-ayre 
the extreame heate did cause an extreame thirst 
so that they dranlce untill they almost burst 
the Townes provission of sweete liquor faild 
wherfore the Ale-wyves harts for greife so quailed 
it would have greivd one to heare them lament 
for that so sone their mippie-ale * was spent 

(quoth one t' another) I could well have vented 

thre tymes as much, thus they their want repented 

this day I have iust fifty shillinges got 

by Greene-goose-sauce & filling short the pot. 

oh this Black-pot it was the best device 

that e're was found t' enrich us w**^ a tryce 

I might as easely have got ten pound 

this day, our guestes they did come in so round 

for meate they care not they cry all for drinke. 

^ This line except Westminster hall is crossed out. Above is written 
"wher ther are daily scand", as I decipher it. 

2 Vol. I, Part I, fos. 52 ff. 

2 Possibly mippie is the word "nappie" or "napping," meaning 
"rare." Cf. Campion, First Booke of Ayres, XX. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 111 

After a long description of the drunken revel, of a fight 
in the inn, and of the red-nosed host and the wanton hostess, 
the author writes : 

Nowe fitly falles it to my taxing pen 

to shewe th' abuse of beastly drunken men 

and their Upholders : you guesse who I meane 

not only Alehouse-keepers, filthy & obscene 

though they the Fathers of all drunkards be 

but their Grandfathers, here in I'l be free 

and will ingeniously expresse my mynde 

though for the same of th' bad, ill will I fynde. 

But who are they? even Justices of Peace 

who t' have their wils, whole Towneships doe disease 

nay doe the Country w*** such vermyne fill 

maintayning them in their lewde courses still 

who lycence p[er3sons lewde Alehousen kepe 

if in submisse wise they to them will crepe 

and give them worship & lowe courtesy 

at ever>' word they speake : oh foppery! 

Who shalbe lycenced? He that at New-yeares-tyme 

can happely a dosen Mallard lyme 

and to a Justice for a present sende 

or he that doth his Chrismas diet mende 

w*^ Capons thre or fower, or Turkyes fat 

an eye of Phesants, whist noe more of that 

speake not of them nor yet of Partriches 

taken in th' nighte, for that the Justices 

should such offences punish by the lawe 

come they to them, they value 't not a strawe 

that other kepe the lawe they are to see 

but from observing it themselves are free 

He that my Lady first ripe Cherries sends 

or a fayre dish of Abricots comends 

unto her Lady-ship, He's an honest man 

he shalbe lycenced doe what yo" can 

Yea, but he keepes ill rule, disorders greate 

and sometymes helpes the Constables to beate 



178 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

when they come hither to redresse abuses 

unlawfull Games in 's house he daily uses 

whiles Divine service some at Churche doe heare 

he then is selling of his ale & beere 

the cheife inhabitants of the Towne complaine 

of misdemeano'^. But they speake in vaine 

He fees his Gierke, he makes his Hyndes good chere 

and filles their skyns oft w*^ his strongest beere 

they are the bane of this o"" Gomon wealth 

the houses where men are depriv'd of health 

give them their right name, th'are Mal-housen then 

the Nursery of all Pernicious-men 

the Rendez vouz and comon meeting place 

of godlesse p|^er]sons, quite devoide of grace 

Theives, Murderers & villaines take dehght 

to squilk ^ in such like houses night by night 

and pray you tell me, howe many be free 

but that they comon Bawdy-houses be? 

Prisons & Gaoiles they fill w*^ Malefactors 

against good lawes they ever are detracto""^ 

Spirituall Gourts, they w**^ offenders fill 

the World w*^ bastards: yet maintaine them still 

what villany but had 'ts begining there 

th'are Gounsell-housen of such as nought feare 

howe many thousands are there in tliis Isle 

that might be spar'd, that nothing doe but spoile 

younge-wanton-youths, & idler-aged-men 

for every thousand would there were but ten 

but then these Justices would much complaine 

who w*"^ their Glarkes, share ever half the gaine 

for Lycence-makinge: they would greive much more 

that pocket all, therby to increase their store 

and leave their Glarkes iust nothing for their paynes 

they taking all what to their men remaynes. 

1 A variant of "swill." 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 179 

so nowe o' drunkards tipling there vnW sit 

untill they have nor honesty nor wit 

till memory & sences quite doe faile 

till money's spent w"^ after they bewaile 

till a monthes earnings if they poore men be 

be spent at th' Tap-house w**^ intemperancie 

an howre or two, nay half a day is small 

thre dayes together they for hquor call 

and drinke & spue & sleepe, then to 't againe 

the drunken Duch at first did this professe 

the soberer English thought of nothing lesse 

but w'are turned Duch, or worser far than they 

doth not this then the height of ill bewray? 

But oh strange thinge, 'tis us'd in private houses 

in Justice-butteries they doe drinke carouses 

will Justices them selves nowe sit & drinke 

untill they spue or doe the roome bestinke? 

noe mervaile then drunkards unpunisht goe 

when they should punish them be drunkards too 

it fares w*** them as w*'^ Officials 

who lecherous p[er3sons to account oft cals 

yet nowe are worse then some that those Courts keepe 

nor better love w**^ a fyne lasse to sleepe 

Is not vyce punisht well the while I pray? 

I hope there's none of yo" that will say nay. 

To drinke carouses nowe 'tis Knight-like growne 

for they from other men would fayne be knowne 

since they can not in Garments or in Wealths 

they wilbe knowne by their carousing Healthes 

six or seaven healths nowe at a meale they have 

at a Knights table usually : that's brave.^ 

1 Vol. II, fos. 236 ff. 



180 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

The following is a picture of a young man ruined by 
gambling : 

Swynburnus was a lad that lov'd to play 

a word or two of him & then I'l leave 

gameing's a trade that many doth deceive 

especially those that a trade it make 

to pursing many men it makes betake 

so to the gallowes, for that's the conclusion 

it many thus doth bringe to sad confusion 

yet in it some exceedingly dehght 

& prosecute the same both day & nighte 

w*^ such an eager appetite I say 

as they were borne but only for to play 

wheras all knowe, gameinge's for recreation 

for seriouser busines to make preparation 

of o'" weake myndes, w"*' if they alwaies stand 

Hke a bowe bente, growe crooked out of hande. 

To eate & drinke & play, man was not made 

but every man must exercise some trade 

I mean not base, mechanick, manuall 

all must in calling live both greate & small 

w*^ sweate on 's browes man was ordaind to Uve 

before by sin he did Jehovah greive. 

when of this universall fabrique he 

was a Lord absolute & from sin yet free 

o' Gallants nowe though, thinke much otherwise 

& by that error doe their lives disguise 

of the w**** nombre was Swnyburnus one 

then he more pleasure took in 't never none 

but not for nought, he made of it greate gayne 

for he was ever in the getting veyne 

of his p[]ro]genito'"^ I litle say 

they nowe are dead & lapped lye in clay 

his ancesto''^ left him noe meanes to live 

his wante of meanes him first to London drive 

where in a service he pickt up his crummes 

that at the Playhouse he tooke cheifest roomes 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 181 

and then did take on him the gentleman 

he w*^ the best to ruffle it began 

then Ordinaries he begins frequent 

then unto gaming he his study bente 

it followed well his hande he got thereby 

^ch ^th jy^Qj.g eagernes made him it plie. 

on's play he liv'd, as many Gamesters doe 

who in apparrell doe as gallant goe 

as Landed-men & of revenues greate 

& keepe as good a diet in their meate 

that he grewe rich: d'ye wonder? why d'ye so; 

the chaunce of Gamesters's variable you knowe 

Dice-players lucke, oftner then th' wynde doth change 

in gamesters wealth certainte were strange. 

the tyde runs w*^ them this day, they get aU 

the next they into many losses fall 

in thinges on earth noe stedfastnes we finde 

not in th' most stable, that should be mans mynde 

would any man then ever looke to see 

the gamesters happe alwayes alike to be 

that of all other is th' uncertainst trade 

one cast a Gent, next a Beggar made 

one day on this side th' nymble bones do run 

the next day so, that he is quite undon 

Examples more than this I neede not showe 

there's scarcely no man but he it doth knowe 

But to Swnburnus to returne againe 

who still delighted in his gameing veyne 

a thousand pounds & half well nigh he got 

at one bare sitting such was then his lotte 

the thousand iDounds he straite put out to Use 

thus his successe begot an other abuse 

w*^ some of th' rest he went & paid his debts 

and his estate he then in order sets 

the surplussage, a gameing stocke he made 

the next day freshlie goeing to his trade 



182 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

but then a stronge tyde did against him run 

he lost all 's gaine, was utterly undon 

his whole estate he at that meeting lost 

& nigh five hundred pounds more, let him boast 

then for foure hundred pounds he gave his bond 

thus shewed he himself most foolish fonde 

to th' Taverns went, put Ratsbane in his wyne 

& w*^ the same his Uves thrid did untwine.^ 

The author attacks unscrupulous doctors: 

Neere unto Malverne Hilles a widdowe dwelt 
I would her father had bin surely gelt 
before he gat her : she a dogleache was 
I doe not well knowe howe it came to passe 
but she cur'd some, as blynde men hit the throwe 
't was more by happe then by her arte I knowe 
one med'cyne used she for ech disease 
w*^ filthy oyntments, she did all men greaze 
that came unto her, whither 't were a wounde 
an Ague-soare, or legges that were unsounde 
whither a Wolfe or Noli-me-tangere 
ache in the ioynts, or cureles Dissentorie 
Lues Veneria, w"*^ some call the Poxe 
her Physicke all comes out a stinking boxe 
there w*^ she sweates her Patients every one 
till some of them sende out their latest groane 
she poisons most, that she doth take in hande 
it is greate pitty none doe countermande 
her bold presumption: Much they are too blame 
Physicians suffring her, their arte to shame 
some that came to the Well their health to get 
she hath nigh kild by laying them in sweate 
such Empericks doe kill more then they cure 
oh dwelt I neere, I could it not endure 
her name agrees w*^ her filthy nature 
her forme tell wo that, she's of an ugly stature 
1 Vol. II, fos. 116 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 183 

't is mother Beaste, a very beaste indeede 
would she were surely trust in hempen-weede 

Many such cheating Mates doe waUce about 
such one was here, a foule, unhandsome Loute 
his name he sayes is Dee, a very knave 
he layes his Patients too, in a dry-bath 
can neither write, nor reade, nor cast a state 
yet he gives physicke, a most cooseninge Mate 
a lewde Imposter, he much mischeife workes 
he squilkes in corners & in odde holes lurkes. 
You Life-prolongers, whom true arte doth guide 
can yo" these life-deprivers thus abide 
y[ou]rselves to wronge, to harme the Comonwealth 
rewarde ye such w*** hanging, as for stealth 
for they are worse then theives, they murderers are.^ 

A picture of a tavern quarrel : 

The next thinge that I p[ro3mised to tell 
it was of ffighters if I reckon well 
two of w"*^ trade, lewde despate & bold 
met once together as I have bin told 
strangers they were & never met before 
both w*'^ did quarrell for a paltry whore 
I meane a Curtizan a comon one 
who for reward refused never none 
she was conducted by two Aplesquires 
unto a Taverne nere unto the Fryers 
both of the Ruffians doggd her all the way 
She being housed thus began the play. 
One knewe her by her name, whom most men knowe 
that did desyre it, I'le not name her though 
they through the Taverne pac'd w*^^ wondrous haste 
untill they found the roome where she was plac't 
at tables upper ende alone she sate 
on either side she had her Pandor mate 
1 Vol. II, fos. 98 verso ff. 



184 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

who for a Gent her thither man'd 
thinking all thre to get well by the hande 
a pynte of wyne they were a drinking then 
when in at dores there came thes boysterous men. 
his supper there they had bespoke that nighte 
(quoth one of these that knewe her by the sight) 
come wench w*^ me (& called her by her name) 
to walke w**^ such, y'are very much too blame 
as dare not fight, come goe away w**^ me 
and who dares touch thee nowe, faine would I see 
he by the hand puld her from th' tables end 
stay (said the other) yet a while my freinde 
she's none of y[ou]''®, I first came in at dore 
yes (quoth the first) S"", but she is my whore 
& I this night intend w*^ her to lye 
(oh monstrous height of damnd impietie 
howe dare men bragge & boast thus of their sin 
who knowes their lewdnes they care not a pin 
these are the Cursed brood, the Damned crue 
& Roaringe boyes, w'^^ noe foule vice eschewe) 
ech Coward Mastife for's soute bytch will fighte 
answered the other, & in thy despighte 
or I will have her, or thou shalt win her deere 
if th'art a Mettall-man let 't nowe appeare 
the Pandors both they shrunk away for feare 
the swaggering youth to fight did fast prepare 
whilest w*^ the noise the roome w*^ folke was fild 
saving mad blood w*''^ should even there be spild 
in th' mydst of th' broyle the Gent he came 
& quietly he seized on his game 
these Ruffians yet their manhod vow'd to showe 
being brought downe into the roome belowe 
next day they both appoint to meete in feilde 
both being despate, ech did scorne to yeilde. 
On horsebacke mounted well, they mette at first 
ech being resolved there to do his worste 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 185 

when first their pistols they discharged, straite 
w*^ their short swords to heawe ech other waite 
their traversing their ground, their wards, & blowes 
ech ffence-schoole-boy, he all of them well knowes 
the ende was this, they did ech other kill 
thus of revenge they both had even their fill.^ 

An attack on women who refuse to nurse their children: 

yet such a cursed custome nowe is got 
richest mens children have th' unhappiest lotte 
they must have Hedge-sparowes their younge to nurse 
I meane their Nurses : so they make a curse 
of that w*'^ once a blessing seem'd to be 
't was first allowed for necessetie 
when parents dyed, or had noe milke to give 
when weaknes hindred, or soore breasts did greive 
nowe scoundrels base, having small wealth acquired 
being brought a bed must have their Nurses hyred 
and shame not t'say, They'le knock them on the heade 
before they'le nurse, the cliildren they have bred, 
unmotherly, unnaturall beastes be they 
w*'^ doe not feare such cursed wordes to say 
mee seemes it is a thinge, unnaturall 
w"^ is not practisd by th' brute animall, 
they nurse the younge ones w"^^ themselves doe beare 
and sockld them w*^'* more then mothers care 
shall brute beastes then growe mothers, mothers beastes? 
they then are guided by Priap's beheastes. 
'tis not the case of Noblewomen nowe 
but even of Clownes wives, if th' have wealth enough, 
it seemes the riche are borne but for their pleasure 
wherin they take their fill above all measure 
the poorer sorte, must w*^ their children take 
unwearied paynes, & why? for monyes sake. 
Though this be bad, yet many doe much worse 
they put their children to lighte ones to nurse 
^ Vol. II, fos. 115 verso ff. 



186 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

have they proportion, neatnesse, comelynesse 
unto such Nurses they themselves adresse 
to th' inclynation of the mynde yo" looke not 
so w*^ their vices, yo" y[ou]]'' children blot 
who doe not sucke it only from their Nurses 
but b' imitation, so p^ar^take their curses 
this is the cause yCou]r heires degenerate 
ye noble bloods; for they them vitiate.^ 

The following is taken from the story of the Voluntarie 
Gent on the return trip from Cadiz: 

" that very night Corncaput he came by 

on th' other syde the streete, the Watch him spie 

a Gent he was, but money-lesse 

a beggarly one I must nedes confesse 

't was then nigh Mid-night & they cald amaine 

he under th' penthouse went to shun the rayne 

and eke to hide him from their viperous eyes 

whilest th' Constable apace unto him cryes 

why who goes there, why stande, come hither S' : 

one w*^ the sconce,^ thre browne bils ^ made such stir 

w*^ crying stop, stop, followe the fellon stoute 

Wee'le search all nighte, but we will finde him out." * 

The author in the passage below tells of a certain Captain 
Swan: 

'Mongst many guests at this so royall feaste ^ 

of one I'le tell yo" nowe a prety least 

a propper tall red bearded Gentleman 

his name I thinke was gallant Captaine Swan 

a sea captaine : captaines often sharke ® 

being bold brave Brittons when they do want worke 

1 Vol. II, fos. 191 ff. ■> Vol. II, fol. 153. 

* lantern, street lamp. ^ Marriage of Princess Elizabeth. 

' military weapon. ^ Shirk. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 187 

a Captain in tyme of peace is like a Nun 

there living, where Religion is undon 

sometymes I see them walk in Paules in buffe 

w**^ great gold lace, all poynted, mary muffe; 

much like to Panderesses, when their game is over 

our captaines oft from Calais come to Dover. 

Captaine, sometyme it was a noble name 

but is nowe growne base, for they themselves defame 

by haunting Pickthach, White-fryers hot-houses 

to bill & bed w*^^ those same prety Douses 

but like the Lapwing I cry from my neast 

I promised to tell yo" of a ieaste. 

The first course being serv^ed to the table 

(I tell no legend, nor no Poets fable) 

as thicke as they could stand there one by one 

voyde place on th' table, there was suerly none 

nay scarcely roome to lay their trenchers on 

yet many dishes other stood upon 

this Captain being amongst other set 

about myd-table, he began to fret 

to chaufe & sweate & could noe longer sit 

for he was taken w**^ a grievous fit 

not of an Ague, nor the Colhck neither 

it may be though, it was a Lurdain-feaver 

he gap't & sweate, & wyp't his angry browe 

I know not wherfore sure : I pray do yo"? 

first soldier-like, 3 or 4 oathes he brake 

but besydes them, ner a wise word he spake. 

being on the benche syde, he ore th' table skipt 

would he not skip well if he had bin whipt 

he curse & swore & out of dores he got 

w*'^ did astonish all. One said the pot 

he thought distempered so, his weaker braynes 

that th' sent of meate to get him gon constraines 

One said because an other Captain came 

that by a tricke had coosen'd him of 's dame 



188 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

An other said because he had no knife 

he gat him gon : thus mens conceits wer rife 

nowe every one shew'd his opinion 

why th' captaine went away so w*'^ a wenion. 

not one of all did hit the nayle on th' heade 

had he stay'd still he suerly had bin dead 

I know yo" longe to heare the cause of it 

I'le tell yo" straite so yo" will silent sit 

it was because a Pigge came to the table 

w''^ to abide by no meanes he was able 

was not the Swan worthy to be made a Goose 

that such a dynner for a pigge would loose. 

I thinke he was a Capten sine I 

of him good sir, I pray yo^ what thinke yee? 

I knewe the Hke by one that nould ^ endure 

to see a Goose come to the table sure 

some cannot brooke to se a Custarde there 

some of a Cheese doe ever stande in feare 

& I knowe one if she Tobacco see 

or smels the same, she swoones imediately 

the like of Roses I have heard some tell 

touch but the skyn & presently 'twill swell 

& growe to bhsters : the reason it is this 

twixt them & these ther's such antithesis 

that snakes in bed, or toades in drinke's not more 

against their natures then these nam'd before.^ 

J. M. shows the fickleness of patrons: 

Ambitious men clymbe up on ycie stayres 
to their proude seates & their high mounted chayres 
they creepe up slowely, like the slymie snaile 
to leave their silvery slyme they doe not faile 
but when they are up mounted all aloft 
they come downe w*'' a vengeance hea[d]longe oft 
^ would not. 

* Vol. II, fos. 256 ff. This passage recalls Shylock's dislike of vari- 
ous kinds of people. Cf. Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Sc. I. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 189 

as huge Oakes fall, or Towers come tumbling downe 

so in disgrace ends all their high renowne 

monej^ or els obscene & filthy life 

doth many raise, it is a thiuge most rife. 

. . . fewe raise their fortunes soe 

unles they will ranke villaines prove, all knowe 

for he that serves one Noble or of Note 

in Court or Country & doth weare his coate 

there may he spende & waste his youtlifull dales 

in swilling, swearing, whoaring & in playes 

in pryde, in ryot, & all kynde of vyce 

for all doe thus except some fewe more wise, 

but one crosse word, the coate's puld o're their eares 

turn'd out of doares & no man for them cares 

thus seaven yeares service I have seene rewarded 

& for as litle many a man discarded 

the least fault that a servant can comit 

he oft is turned out of doares for it 

yea oftentymes when he is innocent 

& for noe fault at all, can once be shent. 

who thrives by service then? I'le tell yo" who 

he that the bacest offices will doe 

he that's a fawning flattering Siccophant 

p[er]haps his master will not let him wante 

he that wilbe a Pandor for his Master 

although sometyme he be him self his taster.* 

The following excerpts are taken from a story of a jealous 
husband. The author dilates on the fact that a woman can 
always deceive a man. One lover comes disguised as a 
woman peddler, another as a fortune teller: 

... he comes anon 

w*^ a greate packe of Pedlers-stuffe at 's backe 

and there aloude he asked what d'ye lacke 

1 Vol. II, fos. 264 ff. 



190 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

white Lawne or Cambrick, or els Holand fyne 

Scotish cloth or Callico w'^'^ beinge slickt doth shine 

fyne Diaper or Damask I will sell 

for powers sweet I only beare the bell 

caules for y"^ head, silk riband for y'^ heare 

I want no kynde of dainty womens ware 

I'le pins, shewe yo" thimbles, nedles or boulace 

all w"** & more he spake w**^ such a grace.^ 

. . . under beggers cloake he ^ liived 

all torne & patcht, much like the very same 

our old Roagues weare nowe for their greater fame 

He came I say unto Costerus ' gate 

where like a Begger, he aloud did prate. 

A mayde past by, he cald her him unto 

as if he would some message to her doe 

(quoth he) I see thou wouldst thy fortune knowe 

come let me see thy hand, I will it showe. 

Thou hast a false dissembling love I sweare 

for he hath set his hart in place els wheare 

he's but a cupbord wooer me beleve 

he kist thee thrice, when last he tooke his leave 

thou hadst an other w"*^ did love thee better 

and of his name Richard was the first letter 

w*^ this away went she & sent an other 

come on (said she) thou lovest Gregories brother 

a maried man, thou lovest him too late 

if thou hadst loved him first, th' hadst better fate. 

A man came then w*'^ victuals in his hand 

a plough-iogge-swaine, one w*''^ the sun all tand 

to whom he said if thou this mayde dost marry 

whom thou lovest well, er thou seaven yeare dost tarry 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 19 verso ff. 
^ The fortune teller, Mercury. 
* The husband. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 191 

by her freinds death she shall enrich the so 

that thou shalt never nede to plough to goe. 

An other wench w**^ that came running fast 

desired to know some secrets that were past 

Hearke in thine eare then, thou the ( ) didst play 

in yonder orchard on a IVIary day 

w*** flea in eare, away then went the mayde 

and to her mistres thus she (angry) said 

this man I warrant him is a very knave 

he tels things past, to come, so Gods me save.* 

The following is taken from a story of Arcadia. The 
heroine, we are told, was not 

. . . coye and nyce as in this age 

o'^ maydes are nowe of stately cariage 

proude in their gate, apparell, countenance 

(I speake not I, of Italy & France 

nor of gold-thirsty Spaine, but amongst us 

I say o'^ damsels are superbious) 

yea in their speeche & every kynde of way 

if garments be well shaped, riche, or gaye 

if beauty too, have somewhat dy'de their face 

then to be proude they hold it for a grace. ^ 

This Amoretta had many lovers, among them a youth 
from England who was ardent in his wooing: 

Amongst this crue was one from Fayery come 
who amongst them had purchased a Roome 
a iolly Shepeheard was he young & bold 
till for her love his liberty he sold 
none of th' Arcadians was so passionate 
as was this Stranger that was come of late 
he courts his Love w*'^ pleasant Madrigals 
Odes Sonets, Elegies, Canzons, Pastorals 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 22 verso ff. 

2 Vol. II, fos. 22 verso ff. 



192 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

w*^ such delightful ditties as might make 
chorlish Diogenes, some pleasure take. 



A Lookinge-glasse, he gat, & sente to her 

the superscription on it, Beauties Mirror 

the first fold opened did conteyne these words 

only her praises that first syde affourds. 

" My Love, like Luna, shineth wondrous brighte 

all creatures in the world ioye at her sights 

She ads more glorie unto Women-kyne 

as the bright Moone to Starres, when she doth shyne." 

On the inmost fold of 's paper he had writte 
these verses following for his purpose fit 
"The perfect picture of that Goddes greate 
to-whome sweete Venus hath resign'd her seats 
here may You see, and only you alone 
without your presence she is sene of none 
if well you looke on this, here you may see 
an exacte Image of divine beautie" 

A Robin Red-breast he in 's chamber spied 
the w"^ to catch he all his skill applyed 
about his Love intending him to use 
as thus he sate in a sore heavy muse 

writing fewe lynes, about his necke him tyde 
thus speaking to him at that present, tyde. 
"Thou kinge of birds art, yet a thrall to me 
many thus captive, should of right goe free 
thy durance is constreind, being held by mights 
such durance I doe seeke & crave as righte 
I am her Captive & doe me submitte 
were shee my keeper, I'd be glad of it 
such thraldome as thou sufferest I desyre 
that soe her presence might me set on fyre. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 193 

Nowe goe to her & shewe her these sad lynes 
of my captivity the woeful! signes 
for thy poore M"^: poore foole pleade thou well 
with lamentable sighs, his sad tale tell 
with bodies perrill, his soules passions showe 
that so she may the certaine truth on 't knowe. 
I doe not doubt but she will set thee free 
if soe, then bid her like wise pitty mee." ^ 

The author writes of the attack on Cadiz: 

Whilest o"^ Eliza of blest memory 

did in this kingdome hold the soveraigntie 

many heroicke spirits for th' comon good 

offred to venture even their deerest blood 

who such an expedition undertooke 

as a more brave was never writ in booke 

Essex & Howard both Liuetenants were 

& both were Admiralls, who soone prepare 

w*^ a small nomber their brave spirits to showe 

that all the world may English valour knowe 

when May began to deck the earth w*"^ flowers 

then 'gan these Nobles trym their watry bowers 

wherin t'embarke them, even a Royall Fleete 

w*'^ for high spirits is a thinge most meets 

seaventene shippes Royall, thre the Lord Admirals 

these are indeede our Englands wooden wals 

th'United States brought fower & twenty saile 

a hundred & six other did not faile 

Men of Warre, Merchants, & Vitulars 

offer their service unto these bright starres 

The Navy Royall thus it did consist 

of seaven score ten saile, count them if yo" list 

wherin were shipt above ten thousand men 

w*'^ mette at Plymouth & put forth agen 

The first of June, a warninge peice discharg'd 

they weighed ancho'^, & their sailes enlarg'd 

1 Vol. II, fos. 23 ff. 



194 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

a prosperous wynde did bringe them to the place 

wheras they meante their valo'^ to uncase 

On June the twenty they did there arive 

where, many wisht them dead that were alive 

the Cadizans I meane, in Cadiz that dwelt 

who quake for feare, er they o"^ power felt 

where twenty gallies, fower score & ten shippes lay 

(when we approched) w[i]thin Cadiz Bay 

five of the w*''^ Apostles were of Spaine ^ 

who doubtles praid that fyre from heaven might rayne 

upon o"^ ffleete : but none effecte it tooke 

but passing that, to themselves let them looke, 

two greate GaUiasses, Frigats likewise thre 

thr Argosies, twenty of Biscanie 

the rest in nomber seaven & fifty saile 

were Merchants shippes whose courages did faile 

yet were of burden greate & richly loade 

but they forsooke the place where they aboade 

& shot into a dangerous narrowe Bay 

the w"^ was full of Rocks, Sandes, Shelves (they say) 

o"^ shippes pursued them through these dangers greate 

and presentUe w*** thondering shot them beate 

that the greate Philhp, Spaines great Admyrall 

could fight noe longer : then gave over all 

they fyred it & sought to swym to lande 

th' Apostle Thomas being next at hande 

he did the like the rest then of the fflete 

for their most safety, they did hold it meete 

in th' bay Port real, themselves t'run aground 

for fighting they must taken be or drownd. 

The Navy thus at sea disperst & beate 

Essex wh's troopes landed in all the heate 

leaving the sea-fight when he sawe them fly 

under the Blockhouse landing imediately, 

some Regiments to stoppe suppUe from th' maine 

made to the Bridge w"^ easely they obteine 

1 The five largest ships were named after Apostles. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 195 

Essex meane while doth to the Towne advance 

where we were hindered by the Ordinance 

He caught his Coolers into Towne them cast 

then o're the Walle the English leaped fast 

happie was he first hold on them could lay 

then through the prease we quickly made o' way 

like hunted sheepe the Spaniards 'fore us run 

being all resolved they were quite undon. 

the streetes being narrowe much they did molest 

us in o"^ passage as we forward preast 

from houses toppes they sent such store of stones 

& from their Charnell-houses, showers of bones 

w**^ tyles & brick-batts, & such mauling geere 

as might make any but the English feare. 

but we left not, but manly them pursued 

unto the Market place in blood imbrued 

where they gave in & yielded up the Towne 

& conquered caytives cast their weapons downe 

the fury of o"^ men was soone allayd 

when none resisted we from slaughter staid. 

Nowe see the cares of Gennerals truly Noble 

on paine of death they forbad all to trouble 

either the female sex or children small 

or the rehgious, but to spare them all. 

Ladies & Gentlewomen they did p[er]met 

in their best clothes, Jewels, & all thinges fitte 

to passe away unto the Porte St. Mary 

the Generals Pinnasses them all did carry 

wliilst they them selves stood by the waters side 

to see noe wronge or harme should them betide 

that rich magnificent Bishop of Cusco 

w*^ all of sacred Orders being let goe 

and quite released w[i]thout ransome paying.^ 

This is followed by a description of the booty and ransom. 
1 Vol. II, fos. 119 ff. 



196 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

fifty two shippes in the late sea-fight beaten 

w'^'^ ran aground, seeing o"^ ffieete them threaten 

two Milhons & a half of Ducats offered 

from further danger to be ransomed. 

Our Noble Gennerals would not once give eare 

but for the Merchants shippes w^*^ then lay there 

w"^ when the Admirall did understand 

the Duke of Medina, he did then comand 

that they the whole ffleete then should sacrifice 

to angrie Vulcan, I sawe't w*^ myne eyes 

then the thicke cloudes of stincking foggie smoake 

did many a Spaniard on the hatches choake 

Nowe the baseslaves like paddocks flewe in th' aire 

when th' fyre & powder kist (oh loving payre) 

when th' hideous roaring & confounding thonder 

bereaved the sayles of all future wonder 

when smoake flame stench, amasd, astonished 

even the spectato"^^ that they were nigh deade, 

the sailers shrieked w**^ such horrid noise 

as one of Hell had heard the fearefuU voice 

and 'tis noe wonder th' cryed so hideously 

for they were posting to Hell speedily 

they in the suburbs nowe already weare 

had they not cause then t' roare & howle for feare. 

two of th' Apostles then were martyred 

thus for their service they full ill have sped 

since they such recompence their freinds doe give 

I'l be their enimie whiles I do live 

by that was done in the yeare 88 ^ 

& nowe in this so coweardly retraite 

unto the world it doth appeare most plaine 

that these same thondering Apostles of Spaine 

are fals Apostles & have not the power 

England t' convert, no not unto this hower.^ 

1 Armada. ^ Vol. II, fos. 121 ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 197 

The following is taken from the relation of the Gun- 
powder Plot. The author gives a list of those taking part 
in the treason: 

Catsby, (yo" children sucking at the breast 

that hateful! name abhor, dread, & detest 

nay let men tremble, shudder, quake for feare 

when they that wretched, odious name doe heare) 

Catsby (I say would I could quietly passe 

the naming him, whose shame is writ in brasse 

in marble to th' eternall memorie 

of f oUowinge ages & posteritie) . 

He, first devisd this proiecte so imane ^ 

w"^ to the worlds ende all will ever bane 

and to this worst acte, the worst tyme of th' yeare 

he did sohcite Wynter, 't doth appeare 

to ioyne w'^^ him against all humane lawes 

some thinge to doe, for th' Catholique Romane cause 

S"^ Edmond Baynam, (Prince of th' damned crue) 

unto the Pope was sente w*^ tydinges newe 

him to acquainte w*** this damnd powder treason 

w°^ did Ms heart glad, above sence or reason 

a fit Embassado'^ 'twixt Pluto & the Pope 

who for rewarde was worthy of a rope 

into th' Lowe Countries, Wynter was dispatclit 

to seeke a desperate Mate in Hell unmatcht 

hight Guydo Faulks, whom he did over bringe 

to acte this, more then a most divehsh tliinge 

this divehsh facte, for to bewray to none 

(these blacke inhabitants of th' infernal lake 

doth th' holy sacrament the blacke band make 

of all their villany, like the Aquihans 

and Brutus sonnes, who shak't their bloody hands 

in a mans bowels whom they would sacrifice 

and dranke his blood, Vindicius sawe't with 's eyes 

^ terrible, cruel. 



198 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

when trayterously 'gainst Rome they did conspire 
by this example Papists are set on fyre 
when treason they, or murder doe intende 
they th' sacrament receive to self same ende. 



There 't was agreed by Powder to be don 

w'''^ if it had, had us & ours undon 

in that blacke consultation they concluded 

(the Divell as the sixt, 'mongst them intruded) 

to undermyne the house of Parliamente 

a house was hyred neere for that intent 

and w*^ that Stygian, smoaky, sulpherous flame 

to blowe up all o"^ so longe purchast fame 

to blowe up Kinge, Queene, Prince, Nobillity 

Counsell, Divines, Judges, Knights, Gentery. 

Because Religion (said they) was suppressed 

Upon that House their fury should b'expressed 

Oh plotte of Furyes, treason sans paralell 

invented first by Pluto, Prince of Hell 

so cruell, brutish, divelish & inmane 

as will I hope give Papists here their bane 

and make them odious through the universe 

where ever any doth this facte rehearse : 

who knowes where this their hell-bred-rage had ended 

if they effected had what they intended 

for that one House alone had not sufficed 

their bloody rage, 't had many more comprised 

The Courte of Records, w*^ th' House of Parliament 

should at one instant bin to filters rent 

The Hall of Judgment, the Collegiate Churche 

must w*^ the rest bin taken in the lurche 

the sacred Monuments, w*^ the Abbey fayre 

blowne up had bin into th' unguilty ayre.^ 

1 Vol. II, fos. 200 ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 199 

The following story, closely resembling in one of its plots 
Chaucer's Miller's Tale, is told in the spirit of satire against 
Roman Catholicism: 

About this tyme, in th' raigne of Harry th' eight 
whilst irreUgious houses stiU were fraight 

It was even then that this same Prior I say 

having longe walkt in superstitions way 

one by the spirit prophesy inspired 

revealed this secrete to him undesyred 

but privily w*^ oath & p[ro]mise both 

from all th' world to conceale't, though he were loath. 

" Not many monthes, shalbe expired more 

before the Heavens, such stormes on earth shall poure 

that all this Isle, shall in greate danger be 

of a Deucahon-flood in quahtie 

which all religious houses shall subverte 

wherof th' Inhabitants must share a parte 

for none exempte, they shalbe ruin'd all 

from th' meanest Moncke, to th' most Pontificall 

Twenty-eight days (he said) the same should laste, 

er th' furj^e of that Flood should quite be paste." 

This hearing he to save one casts aboute 

and this as safest meanes he fyndeth out 

upon some steepe-high-peering-hill to make 

some Babell-frame, so stronge it should not shake 

^th surging billowes, beating on the same 

of Harrowe-hill he did make choice by name 

upon whose utmost height, a house he built 

sparing nor tyme, nor labour, nor yet gilt ^ 

untill his sweating workmen finished 

his spire-like-building, him to free from dread. 

w*^ a bricke wall his house he liemmd in round 

w''^ cost him many a fayre shininge pound 

1 gold. 



200 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

as Superstition brought him in the coyne 

so did the same vice, it againe purloyne. 

Nowe they did hold, in those blynde moone-shine-dayes 

where in the cleere sun never shew'd his rayes 

Paradise was but sixteene cubits hie 

above the earth, where Enoch safe did lye 

(and yet mee thinks, when Noahs flood did reache 

full fifteene cubits (so the Worde doth teache) 

above the highest sweelinge mountaines toppes 

Enoch for feare should have berayed his . . . ^ 

having noe boate to swym as Bolton ^ had 

the w*'^ mighte make liim so much more to drad 

had I bin in that Papists Paradice 

I should have drowning feard) oh foule device! 

had he not reason then to build it hie 

an hundred feete he'le have 't made certainly. 

To the Sub-prior he comits the charge 

of all his Fryers, lets them not run at large 

and like an Anchorite, or a Recluse he 

mewes up himself in 's walles most carefully 

of victuals he abundant store p[ro]vides 

himself so to preserve for aftertydes 

his Tower-toppe, was fairely roofed over 

that it did much more then the Spire-top cover 

there pullies were made fast at either ende 

on w*^^ a ffisher-boate he cause depende 

covered w*^ hatches, therby himself to free 

from the raynes outrage, if that neede should be 

his Masons wrought him in & left noe doare 

he meant to swym out, or stir out noe more 

the Boate to th' toppe, himself had haled up 

upon the hatches he did alwayes suppe 

w[i]thin the Boate he lay, there was his bed 

in the day tyme, on 's bookes he alwayes read 

1 The word cannot be deciphered; it may be "slopyes." 
^ The prior. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 201 

for Holy Legends, & Saints Lives he loved 

(most fit for such as blynde devotion moved) 

by day the Prior spente his tyme belowe 

for that the ffloods growe by degrees yo*^ knowe 

and he might by degrees & steps ascende 

into his Pallace height & upy ende 

an hundred steppes high was his stairecase framed 

for making it so lowe he might be blamed. 

in morne when he came downe on every stayre 

he said his Credo, for an harty prayer 

those on his Beades Devoutly he told over 

as one that was of th' Pope, his God a lover 

w"^ he told backe when he went up to bed 

w*^ Ave Maria w"*^ w*^ zeale he sed 

Ora Pro Nobis he thumpt on his breast 

fearing 't be drownd on a dry hill, oh ieaste! 

This Revelation w''^ was shewed thus 

he tooke as sent from heaven propitious 

thinking as Noah, he againe should raise 

a future Nation, in 's declyninge dayes 

but that he wants a female & would fayne 

have gone out of his Hermitage againe 

had he not feared he might be prevented 

er his returne, therfore himself contented 

er els that freinds might possibly p[er]suade-him 

for w*^ stronge reasons many did disuade-him 

therfore he thought, better be sav'd alone 

for he might have a female made of stone 

as once Pigmalion had; but nowe before 

this careful Prior provided bookes good store 

these bookes he was most careful to preserve 

therfore of Holy Church did much deserve. 

Legenda aurea, Gesta Romanorum 

Panopha, Stella Clericorum 

St Gregories Legende, Eckius Encheiridion 

Asotus workes of Supererogation 



202 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Taxa poenitentiaria Apostolica 
Dionysius Areopagita.^ 

A meale-mouthed-Miller, not far off did dwell 

whose story mixed w*^ the Priors He tell 

He for her goods an old wife married 

poore Croane sh'had better sped if she had tarried 

a widdowe still : when he her bagges had got 

he did protest for her he cared not 

nor w*^ a fawe ^-falne-gipsy would he live. 

thus w*^ vile taunts he did the poore soule greive 

ner came in bed w*'^ her, nor plaid the p[ar]te 

of a kynde husband w"^ went nere her harte 

the reason was he had found out a Lasse 

whose skyn was white & smooth as looking-glasse 

a Captaines wife, a bony-bouncing-Girle 

who in this Gold-thumbs eyes was a faire p[ear]]le 

Mounsieur the Miller, w*^ his mealy mouth 

lov'd her too well, to tell you the plaine truth 

her husband was a man of mycle yeares 

and yet the Miller, th' Captaines wife oft cheeres. 

that he more freely nowe might have his will 

he was their Miller & did grynde there still 

tole-free he often ground, tooke deeper tole 

(to the greate hazard of his pocky soule) 

when w*^ the M"^'^^; of the house he mette 

th' Captaine oft absent, nothing their love did let ■* 

but coming home his old wife seemd to be 

an extreame pull-backe, to his iollitie 

then would he alwayes, rage & curse & sweare 

that noe man could her filthy fashions beare. 

The Captaine wounded by some dismall blows 

nowe kept his bed: they to conclusion growe 

that night to have a bout : at his backe dore 

she was to enter, there to play the whore 

^ This list of books continues for nearly twenty verses. 
^ stained, dirty. ^ Mistress. * hinder. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 203 

if that the Miller can get's wife to goe 

downe to the Mill, they had appointed soe 

some flight shot from the house the Mill was set 

his wnfe being there, nought could their purpose let 

unto the hill syde she did walke the while 

that so she might the too longe tyme beguile 

if he once whistled she was to come in 

the more securelj^ to coniit their sin. 

Out of her house the old Lasse would not stir 

the Miller scarce could keepe his fist from her 

but chaufed & raild, wisht her in deepest hell 

in this mad rage he her this newes doth tell 

He'le hange himself before he'le leade that life 

w**^ such an old-untoward-beldame-wife 

w*^ many oathes his former speech he bound 

that he would hange him self that night from ground 

so shall I be at once (said he) cleane rid 

of such a plague, as ner bj'^ man was bid 

a foule-mishapen, old, crowe-trodden queane 

driveUng at mouth, nose dropping, most obsceene 

one were as good in hell it self abide 

as to lye by such a red-herrings syde 

smoake dry'd like those that Lymbo doth conteine 

and in this rage, away he wente amaine. 

Poore cuckqueane she more reason had by far 

w^^ him for 's whoare rather to chide & iar. 

but this we fynde oft by experience true 

the guilty make the guiltlesse most to rue 

condemning them, themselves condemnd should be 

as in this patterne, yo" may plainly see. 

Candles were lighted, th' evening darke did growe 

so as one man could not an other knowe 

when as they met w[i]thout a candles light 

as it was darke, so 't was a wyndy nighte 

the blustering wynde, a storme of rayne did raise 

a while this Beldam strucke w*^ terro*^ prayes 



204 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

prayes & cryes out, howles, makes a mournful! noise 

this was the sauce she had w*^ hoped ioyes 

w^** nerthelesse she never did p[ar]take 

th' Miller a begger, she a man did make 

of rumpe-wood-widdowes, she's a patterne iust 

though ner so old, yet younge lads have they must 

who for the most p[ar]]t, them doe thus rewards 

getting their gold they quickly them discarde. 

and worthily, what reason can they give 

when they for yeares can scarce thre somers live 

that they a boy of 18 yeares will wed 

& bringe them to their ycie chilling bed? 

if lust be not the cause, the divell's then 

but thus th'are fitted though by most younge men. 

The noise she made, the neighboures quickly heard 

therfore came ruriing to her, being afeard 

her husband wronged her. In they rushing came 

Walter (quoth she) is gon (so was his name 

Flood his sir name), in a greate rage from me 

vowinge to hange himself imediatehe. 

The neighboures to his father bare the newes 

who w**^ all's houshold straite way him pursues 

w*^ all the neighboures dwelling there about 

w*^ Lynkes ^ & Lanthornes in a confused route 

w*^ Torches, fyrebrands over all the hill 

his freinds crying, Walter, Water, Water still 

his neighboures likewise they as fast did call 

Flood, Flood, Flood, Water, Water, Flood, even all 

thus round about the hill all night they run 

as if Bi-maters Orgies had bin don 

th'old Croane his wife, cry'd out w*^ mournfull noise 

Wynde, rayne, Flood, Water, w*^ a sad horse voyce 

Nowe in the depths of night, the Prior waked 

hearing them cry, his hart for horro*^ quaked 

^ A torch usually made of pitch. Cf. Shakspere, 1 Henry IV, 
Act III, Sc. 3, 1. 48. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 205 

some crying Flood, others did Water cry 

about the hill he many lights did spie 

and he imagined they clymb'd the hill 

least that the water should their deere lives spiU, 

his wife, his father, mother & his brother 

did all yell out & shrike one to another 

other did Lure ^ & hallowe wanting light 

some fell in ditches in the darke of nighte 

& pittifuUy cryd, some helpe to have 

in ponds some cry, my life, my life, oh save 

he heard them talke of drowninge all aboute 

the fearfuU yelling, howlinge of the route 

the wynde blew loude & it apace did rayne 

The Prior ready was to dye w*"^ paine 

all the day longe, he still the flood did dread 

& all night longe he drowning feard in 's bed 

he dream'd of nothing but of rayne & water 

nowe all of them about the hill doe clater 

flood, rayne, wynde, water, peoples fearfull cryes 

all w"^ augment his former iealousies. 

That, his Prediction was nowe to expire 

iust at this tyme, as it was told the Prior 

thus in a maze, w**^ a much troubled mynde 

(for sup[er]stition ever is so blynde 

that they are troubled more then there is cause 

who — seming wisest are as wy^se as dawes) 

a knife in ech hand he takes instantly 

and cut both cords the w"*^ his boate hunge by 

so w*^ a sersarery ^ downe he came 

calling aloude upon St Beckets name 

bruised w*^'s fall & wounded w*^ one knife 

he thus did finish 's superstitious Ufe. 



^ to call. A lure was a name for a trumpet. 
'^ certainty. 



206 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

During this hurly-burly and disquiet 
in a close cave, the Miller lay close by-it 
close lay the Miller to his Paramore 
a gallant wenche.^ 

A certain Jack Gullion has been imprisoned for drunken- 
ness by his king : 

He ^ sent him to the Gaoile awhile to kepe 

that he might setle's braines by rest & sleepe 

but when as Gullion to the prison came 

and heard that he should suffer for the same. 

Nay then (said he) before I dye, I'le drinke 

w*^ any man who best himself doth thinke 

even for an hundred pound of shininge gold 

and here it is (on table he it told.) 

Loe this the preparation for his soule 

he thus doth praye, nowe when the bell doth tole 

even so o"^ prisoners when in gaoile they lye 

they practise there all kynde of villany 

although their conscience doth convicte them plaine 

that they have iustly merited Hell-payne 

though nowe the horro'^ of their conscience might 

them (being in durance) grievously affright 

because they nowe must unto reckoninge come 

not of their lewdnesse all, but of that same 

w"*^ will endanger their (most wicked) life 

and them expose unto the Hangemans knife 

they are as blithe & frolicke as before 

Such as their hands embued in bloody gore 

nay when they are condemned by the Lawe 

to dye the death, they not regarde't a strawe. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 52 ff. The author tells the reader that the prophecy 
came true concerning the destruction of all. reUgious houses and 
orders by the laws of suppression of Henry VIII. 

* The German ruler. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 207 

Once we must dye, therfore let's merry be 
when life doth ende, adieu fehcity 
(they say) let's drinke o'^ fill while we be here 
for Hell is dry, then there is no good beere 
A heavy case, men should so desp[er]ate be 
but thus it is w*^ such we dayly see. 



Of drunkenesse a little let's discusse 

this vice died not w*^ those eight drunkards ^ thus 

but since hath spred itself throug Germany 

and nowe in England it growes fruitfully 

a Hydra headed monster it appeares 

encreasing more & more by tracte of yeares 

their fearefuU end doth not make drunkards feare 

for still they tipple & will not forbeare. 

Men sometyme dranke, only to coole their thirst 

but nowe untill they doe even almost burst 

o'^ gallant Tospots nowe do use to drinke 

half pots & pots, untill they downe do sinke 

nay out of measure, they by measure swill 

by th' yard & ell, that thej^ may have their fill 

the next device wilbe to drinke by th' rod 

for nowe o*^ drunkards feare nor man nor god 

then like to Gullion they'le whole hogshedes quaffe 

right Swinish fashion, as they drinke their draffe 

Lawes have ben made to curb such heretofore 

& by these lynes I doe those Powers implore 

to whom redresse of such foule vice belonges 

to 'mende th'amisse & right these greivous wrongs. 

Of drunkcnnesse, what nede I more to say 

that it is divelish none can well denay 

bad for the purse, the body, & the mynde 

and yet the worst of all is still behinde 

bad for the soule too would yo" have me prove-it 

it utterly undoeth all that love-it 

' Gullion and his companions in jail. 



208 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

the purse is wasted by th' excesive use 
the next fild w*^ disease by that abuse 
the mynde forgetful!, dull, & melanchoUy 
the soule is damnd to Hell, for that mad folly. 
Thre Outs o*^ swaggering Gallants do carouse 
when as they meete in swynish-tipling-house 
first all the drink the w"^^ the pot doth hold 
next all the mony they in purse have told 
& thirdly all the wit out of their head 
that oft a watry ditch, serves for their bed.^ 

The following quotations continue a series of prison 
pictures of which the story of Gullion was the first: 

Xadleus he in prison beinge pent 
in tyme of actinge this strange accident 
for that in divelish witchcraft he had skill 
wherby he had don many a greivous ill 
he made a scoffe at what the God had don 
saying himself would doe as much anon 
so that the company came crowdinge in 
and did attende when Xadley would begin 
Thither by chance a Tanner came to see 
what pleasant sport should in the prison be 
behinde his backe, a Butte of leather hanged 
w*^ Gulhon he the pitcher lately banged. 
He bid him lay his leather on the table 
(quoth he) wilt give it me if I am able 
to make it come to me from th' other ende 
and never touch it? He did condiscende. 
The leather straite came sliding all alonge 
to th' admiration of the wonderinge thronge. 
He called then: ffill me a glasse of beere 
the Tapster fild a venice glasse most clere 
into his hande he quickly did it take 
but let it fall, it all in peices brake 
he causd his boy, the peices up to gather 
1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 36 ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 209 

that he might make it whole, so much the rather 

he blowes upon them & they did conioyne 

thus made he it both whole againe &, fyne. 

To kill one that's alive, ech one can doe 

yet for a myracle the same doth goe 

but I will unto painted men give life 

and make them fighte, till death doe end their strife 

w*^^ that he tooke two Gardes out of the packe 

only they two did of the payre ^ lacke 

the rest he nymbly to the seeling cast 

where every one of them did sticke full faste. 

those other two w°^ he in hande did save 

the one of Clubs, the other of Harts the Knave 

at ech ende of the table, one he laide 

they start upright, that all men were dismaide 

and there they fought in earnest & in scorne 

till one an other had in peices torne. 

There was a villain that was laid in there 

a most abhorred bloodj^ murderer 

an other that his brother poisoned 

his father being then but newly dead, 

because the elder did enioye the lands 

and this was left to live upon his hands 

that day wherin his father was inter'd 

he ravisht's sister for he nothing feard 

nor angry Gods, nor iustice doeing men 

if 't were to doe, he would it doe again 

the one a reeper ^ was, all clad in greene 

as rancke a Ruffian as was ever seene 

these two were most blasphemous swearing knaves 

and so in prison ech himself behaves 

the first like one starke mad would often sweare 

yea greatest Gods name, all in peices teare 

^ pack or deck of cards. 

* This may mean "keeper." The word is not clear. 



210 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

they st[r]ivinge both, w*^ strange oathes all t'excede 

and their Redemer often made to bleede 

w*^ wounds & nayles, & other oathes besyde 

as, harte, & foote, & precious bleeding side 

w**^ blood, & hfe, & death & oathes more strange 

yea sacred powers, w*^ thinges p[ro]fane they range 

oh strange & yet coinon impiety 

that they most vile thinges thus will deifie. 

It's comon growne to sweare by faith & troth 

for men account the same to be no oath 

swearinge is counted nowe to be noe sin 

oh monstrous age, what tymes doe we live in! 

t'is Gentleman-like both to curse & sweare 

and boldy too w^ijthout or dread or feare 

'tis the best grace a gentleman can use 

in his discourse, who will the same refuse? 

Th'are clownes & dolts, that tell a tale sans swearing 

disgracefull is their speeche, if oathes be sparinge 

but those that sweare w*^ greatest grace of all 

I say that they have iust noe grace at all 

they by their faith doe sweare & by their troth 

untill indede they neither have of both, 

when they by God sweare, they their bellyes meane. 

for other God they scarcely care a beane 

he that sweares not, they count him not a man 

but valiant, noble, that do curse & ban 

a man of courage, spirit, brave, & stoute 

but he a Milksop that speakes oathes w[i]thout. 

divines them selves that others should reprove 

dare rap out oathes, & sweare they swearing love 

such fellowes are more fit for plough & cart 
then take degree & be made M"^ of Arte.^ 

1 Vol. I, Part n, fos. 37 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 211 

Hermes tells Apollo of Rome: 

" Rome gnawes the flesh, from th' hands of every man 

& hates all those of whom she nought get can. 

Rome is the Divels schoole, the Mj'^nte of Treason 

where the most learned live, quite voide of reason 

their best learning's their erro"^^ to defende 

for this they study & noe other ende. 

a cage of Uncleane Birds, a filthy Stewes 

where th' Holyest, his hand in blood inbrues 

Rome is a Nursery of Toades & spiders 

of Serpents, Adders & of cursed Vipers 

w''*^ doe infecte, w^^ stinge, & murder all 

those lands, & people, they converse w[i]thall 

a denne of Serpents & of Dragons fell 

a poysonous sty as venomous as Hell. 

Rome is a Cabin full of cursed Traitors 

a swarme of such men as for blood are wayters 

What monstrous villany hath ben attempted 

or els comitted, but 't was there invented? 

And Aretyne a booke of Bawdery wi'it 

w*^ many pictures w*^*^ belong'd to it 

where many severall wayes he teacheth howe 

one may p[er]forme that acte, w*^ shame enough. 

thiat it is true the Stationers can tell 

I've scene the pictures pubUquely to sell. 

In pubUque schooles they gticke not to dispute 

(it were more fitter they were dumbe and mute) 

whither Sodomj^, or matrymonie's best 

that w"^^ ech honest harte doth most detest 

they give 't a handsome name to blynde the eye 

calling it thus, Clementine Venery. 

The Church of Rome, may well be cathoUque 
because she eates up lesse as doth a Pike 



212 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

eate smaller fishe, for soe doth she devours 
all smaller Churches that are in her power. 
Or Catholique, may well thus much betoken 
the Common Church, in private be it spoken 
for She doth many Common Queanes maintaine 
& Common Boyes : here Holynes doth raigne 
Pope Clement prov'd it by authority 
that women ought be comon & shew'd why. 

Hence yo^ Laye-people, hence all yo" profane 
medle not yo" w**^ this o holy function 
neither o"^ orders, nor o"^ sacred unction 
nor come yo*^ neere o"^ Lemans touch them not 
yHou^r only breath their chastetyes will blotte 
goe to the Common Stewes, for that's appointed 
for all not beinge w*^^ sacred oyle annoynted. 
to touch a Leman that 'longes to a Priest 
it is the greatest syn that er'e you wist. 
Rare questions there by Doctors are propounded 
M'^ of Arte, & Bachelours well grounded 
these & such like not one of them is vaine 
whether that God, can make a whore, againe 
a Virgine pure? And whether Christ could take 
a female creatures, or a womans shape? 
if he could turne himself into the forme 
that is of damned Divels & of feindes worne? 
if he an Asses nature could take on him." ^ 

" The Pope yo" knowe kepes many Jubilies 
amongst his other Jewish cerimonies 
there, I myself was present at the last 
when all the busynes of that daye was past 
aU housen there were fild so full of guests 
that one of them an other much molests 
for I that had my chamber private kepte 
thre weekes & more, & there securely slepte 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 72 ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 213 

was then disturbed w*^ a chamber-mate 
by gate & speeche, he seemd a man of state, 
at supper he his glasse did kepe alone 
he never layde his fingers meate upon 
but w**^ his silver carvinge forke he slaid-it 
night cald to bed, & he good-man obeid-it 
because I knewe not well my chamber-fellowe 
m}'^ purse I layde, close underneath my pillowe: 

... at length I slept foxe-slepe 

& often w*^ one eye I up did peepe 

to see what this brave gallant went about 

first did I see him five on's teeth pull out 

w''^ in a boxe he laid full daintely 

then nexte he pulled out his blynde left eye 

then puld he off his fayre enameld Nose 

w'''^ from true flesh could noe mans eyes disclose 

it to the flesh conioyned was so well 

it shew'd the Artists cunning did excell." ^ 

" Yo" first must knowe this lande ^ in riches flowes 
where many a man hath much more then he knowes 

in gay apparrell they doe much delighte 
to goe neat clothed is a seemely sighte 
but to exceede & passe their owen degree 
to take't at best, it is but foolerye. 
Many fantastic Asses I have seene 
w''^ w**^ that vice, have fouly tainted bene 
but one amongst the rest that did excell 
whose story nowe I briefly meane to tell 
so sone as ever any fashion changed 
into that shape himself he forthw**^ ranged 
a most fantasticke shallowe-brayned-Gull 
as ever ware a hatte of Spanish-wooU. 

1 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 73 verso ff. Italy. 



214 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

Nowe w*'* a swaggering Switzers hose he went 
then in a French round hose, that his . . , ^ pent 
then w**^ a Tankerd-hose, that's greate at waste 
ty'de above knee, the upp ende bumbast 
nowe w**^ a paire of greate longe paired hose 
drawne out w*^ silke he wallowingly goes 
then w*** a full cloth hose as bigge at knee 
as 'tis above, & thus continewallye 
he changeth forme in dublet, hatte, & shoes 
in cloake, in bande, & he doth dayly choose 
as a newe suite, so a newe colour too 
ech day he doth in different colours goe. 

nowe like a Rain-bowe, some of every coloure 
then like a Punck in white, even like his mother, 
then like a Mourner he's all clad in blacke 
nought white, but bande & face: when as alacke 
blacke should betoken of a well-staied-head 
or of bemoaninge some (deere loved) dead 
when I thus sawe him given intoUerably 
to followe every fashion newe so variably 
(if he but one sawe, a newe fashion weare 
to be the seconde he would straite prepare." ^ 

The following selections are taken from a story connected 
with; the attack on Cadiz. A Spanish mother with one 
son has prevented his marriage by attacking the virtue of 
women. Later, when her son is slain in the English attack, 
she tells of the sorrows of a mother: 

" My son, my son, oh take heede ho we yo" wive 
Wives are th' p[er]nitionst ^ creatures nowe aUve 
the rankst dissemblers that er breathd this ayre 
but most inchanting Witches if th'are fayre 

^ The word is blurred; it looks like "breche." 
2 Vol. I, Part II, fos. 77 verso ff. 
^ pernicious. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 215 

beleve them not, what ever they yo** tell 

th'are hollowe harted as th' vast caves of Hell 

th'are like Hyenas seming most to mourne 

to wanton laughter presently they turne 

their vertues they in folio doe expresse 

but all their vices labo*^ to represse 

they'le hide their faults, yo*^ never shall them knowe 

but all their vertues they'le to all men shows 

if they be amorous enclyned to love 

then most inconstant changelinge they will prove 

if full of children costly in their fare 

if barren most insatiate then they are 

if they be younge to wantonesse inclynde 

if mydle ag'd, yo" shall them subtile fynde 

if old why then w*^ covetize affected 

iealous, complayning that they are neglected 

if wise then proude & much conceited too 

if foolish she's thy shame wher er she goe 

if she be rich, she wilbe insolent 

if poore (p[er]haps) w*^ lesser state content 

if p[er]sonable, comely, then she's coy 

if homely, sluttish, her sight doth anoy 

if well descended, she'le be bravely kept 

all have their vices noe one state except 

be ruld by me my son & good heede take 

what kynde of creature thou thy wife dost make 

more easelier thou shalt a thousand fynde 

lewde & p[er]verse then one of vcrtuous mynde 

what man so ever ventures on that life 

may for his crosse take up a crooked wife 

I will not say but thou by chance mayst hit 

on such a one as may be for thee fit. 

Into a Barrell can one put his arme 

naked & bare (& yet be free from harme) 

fild full of Snakes & stinging Adders eke 

can any one I say that so doth seeke 



216 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

fynde out one Ele that is put them among 
in mydst of such a most contagious tlii'onge? 
If he by chance upon the Ele should hght 
can he the Snakes enchant that they not bite? 
Is not an Eles tayle, a most slippery hold? 
whence comes the proverbe that's as true as old. 
Y'are even as good hold a wette Ele by the tayle 
as to repose a trust in Women fraile. 
But say one could out of the Barrell get 
the Ele & that the Snakes stinges did not let 
a Snakish nature will the Ele possesse 
by lying amongst them she can doe no lesse 
though their tayles stinge not, yet beware their tongues 
the venom'st member that to them belonges.^ 

After her son's death the mother exclaims: 

" To thousand paynes we women are exposd 

^th gj-eifes & feares we restlestly are tosd 

when we doe marry we o"^ hopes do misse 

being cloy'd w**^ cares, when we expected blisse 

Yea the first night that we to bed doe goe 

doe we not then cry out for greife & woe 

noe other creature feeles like paynes as we 

in the deere losse of o'^ virginitie 

and w*''^ is worse they w^*^ doe love us most 

doe payne us thus & in it glorying boast 

this payne o're past, when we conceive w*^ childe 

howe carefuU are we, lest the same be spoild 

and all the while we doe that burthen beare 

we never are dischargd of greife & feare 

w*'^ evill stomacks troubled evermore 

longing for meates we never lov'd before 

for such oft tymes as can noe where be had 

faynting & swooning often, that's as bad. 

1 Vol. II, fos. 123 verso ff. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE NEWS METAMORPHOSIS 217 

longe paines in nursing children when th'are borne 

but many wantons do that labor scorne 

the loathsome noysomnes we doe indure 

and waywardnes that nurse them I am sure 

the want of sleepe w*^ cryinge all the night 

the greivous paines when they o'' teats doe bite 

o"^ breasts obnoxious unto agues oft 

w°^ makes us stoope although we looke aloft 

still are o"" feares increast, one while we dread 

to overlay them as we lye in bed 

then fyre & water in next place we feare 

to keepe them from it, tis o'" speciall care 

when they begin to clymbe we feare their falles 

if out of sight we seeke them w*^ loude calles 

one while we feare their bones be out of ioynt 

w*^^ bone-set-salves we doe the places oynt 

nay infinite are th' severall accidents 

that doe befall them, some w*'* dyre events. 

This charge once past, then there comes next in place 

good education w°^ may give them grace 

feare lest they should us by bad courses greive 

or by their lewdnes us of ioy deprive 

their infancie like to bruite beasts they spende 

whose waywardnes doe tetchie Nurses tende 

being past the cradle all to sport enclynde 

w*'^ Apish toyes they please their wanton mynde 

a horse, a cowe, or hke beast as all men knowe 

in 4 or 5 yeares to p[er3fection growe 

till twice seaven yeares, th'are children for the rod 

themselves not knowing, fearing nor man nor God. 

But growe they once to be Haber-de-Hoyes 

that is the state betwene a Mans & Boyes 

then comes the dangeroust tyme of all their life 

(unless they happily finde a vertuous wife) 

then riot, lust, quaffing, & swaggering 

quarrehng, contending, & unthrifty spending 



218 THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS 

our children marrying we good portions give 
by meanes wheroft o' selves oft poorely live 
■when old age comes, we then twice children are 
& like Anotomies our bones growe bare 
a sheete at death we cary to o' grave 
& this is all the pleasure that we have." ^ 

1 Vol. II, fos. 126 ff. 



INDEX 



Alden, R. M., 19 n. 2. 

Aldis, H. G., 127. 

Ariosto, Ludovico, 29, 45, 46, 51, 

124. 
Arnold, Matthew, 134. 
BaskerviUe, C. R., 120 n. 1. 
Beaumont, Francis, 22 n. 3, 28 

n. 6, 113. 
Brink, B., ten, 36 n. 1, 38 n. 3. 
BuUen, A. H., his references to 

the manuscript, 68; 114 n. 2, 133. 
Capgrave, John, 43. 
Chaucer, Geoffrey, use of couplet, 

20; influence on author, 36 ff.; 

36 n. 4, 6, 39, 42, 44, 45, 55, 

62, 63. 
Cutwood, Thomas, 28 n. 4. 
Davies, sir John, 28 n. 4. 
Devereux, W. B., 87 n. 4. 
Donne, John, 19, his satirical 

verse, 23; 60, 116, 136. 
Drayton, Michael, 20, 20 n. 3, 54 

n. 1, 62, 155. 
Essex, Robert Devereux, earl of, 

29, 54, 73; J. M.'s, praise of, 

87 ff.; 109, 115, 135, 136, 139, 

143, 151, 156. 
Fabliaux, 34; use of, 36 ff.; 

38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 156. 
Fenton, Geoffrey, 27. 
Fleay, F. G., 128, 129, 131 n. 5, 

132 n. 1, 154. 
Fletcher, John, 22 n. 3, 113. 
Foxe, John, 45. 
Gifford, William, his criticism of 

Marston, 112 ff. 
Greene, Robert, 56, 107, 159. 
Grosart, Rev. Alexander, his refer- 
ences to the manuscript, 67 ff.; 

114 n. 3, 115 notes, 122 n. 3, 



131 n. 4, 132 n. 2, 133, 137 n. 2, 
144, 150 n. 4. 
Guilpin, Edward, 28 n. 4, 130. 

Hall, Joseph, 16 n. 3, 20, 23, 28 n. 
4, 60, 130 n. 2. 

Halhwell-Phillipps, J. O., connec- 
tion with the manuscript, 67; 
68, 110, 133. 

Harrington, sir John, 29, 124, 135. 

Harte, William, 107, 126, 127 n. 1. 

Haslewood, Joseph, 1; his con- 
nections with the manuscript, 
65 ff.; 110. 

Howard, Charles, earl of Notting- 
ham, 54, 73, 115, 136. 

Jewell, John, 44, 44 n. 9. 
Jonson, Ben, 63; 112 n. 5; 

quarrel with Marston, 114 ff.; 

119 ff., 130, 155 n. 1. 

Lamb, Charles, 113. 
Lodge, Thomas, 28. 

Marie of France, 34 n. 1. 

Markham, C. R., 83 n. 2, 122 n. 
4, 134 n. 2, 135, 136 n. 1. 

Markham, Francis, 122, 124 ff., 
134 n. 2, 140 n. 3. 

Markham, sir Griffin 135, 152, 156. 

Markham, Jervase, Thyrsis and 
Daphne, 28; 65, 66, 69, 83 n. 1, 
90 n. 5, 91, 92, 93 n. 5, 99 n. 1, 
107, 108; his famUy, 122 ff.; his 
personality, 126 ff.; his works, 
127 ff., 130; the use of the letter 
J in Jervase, 131 ff.; the title 
gent., 132 ff.; the Frenc/se name; 

133 ff.; career as a soldier, 

134 ff.; connections with the 
Puritans, 137 ff.; Markham and 
Essex, 139 ff.; love of country- 
life, 140 ff.; wide reading, 

219 



220 



INDEX 



141 ff.; Markham and Cam- 
bridge, 143; as a poet, 143 ff.; 
affection for his father, 145 ff.; 
his home, 146; his style, 146 ff.; 
evidence summed up, 148 ff.; 
his plagiarism, 149; his hand- 
writing, 150 ff . ; hatred of Spain, 
151 ff.; hatred of Papacy, 152; 
the theater, 153; references to 
contemporaries, 153 ff.; reason 
for not publishing the manu- 
script, 155 ff.; conclusion, 158 ff. 

Marlowe, Christopher, 28, 28 n. 4, 
62, 112. 

Marston, John, 1, 16 n. 3; his 
verse, 23; 24, 28, 60, 65, 66, 67, 
69, 83 n. 4, 105, 108; as author 
of the manuscript, 110 ff.; Miss 
Toulmin-Smith's objections to 
him as the author, 110 ff.; his 
real merit. 111 ff.; a gentleman 
by title, 114; name not French, 
115; as a soldier, 115 ff.; dislike 
of the Puritans, 117 ff.; addi- 
tional reasons why he could 
not be J. M., 118 ff.; his style, 
119 ff.; 122, 130, 155 n. 2. 

Martin, James, 65, 108 ff.; as the 
author, 109. 

Mason, John, 65, 66, 108; as the 
author, 109. 

Massinger, Philip, 113. 

MatUda, 18, 19. 

Microcynicon by T. M., 16 n. 3. 

Middleton, Thomas, 53 n. 2, 113. 

MiUes, Thomas, 6, 43. 

MinshuU, Geffray, 109 n. 2. 

Ortelius, van, 43. 

Ovid, Publius Ovidus Naso, 17, 
29; tales borrowed from, 32 ff.; 
33 n. 2, 35 n. 2, 39, 43, 60, 91, 
156. 

Painter, William, 27. 

Pastoral, the use of, 40. 

Pettie, George, 27, 32 n. 6. 



Piers Plowman, 24. 
Pitcairn, Robert, 41 n. 7. 
Phny the elder, 43. 
Plutarch, 43, 142. 
Purchas, Samuel, 6, 43, 61. 

Ralegh, sir Walter, 6, 44, 54, 73, 

75 n. 2, 136, 152. 
Rich, Barnabe, 27. 
Roberts, James, A banishment of 

Cupid, 51 n. 3. 
Shakspere, William, 22 n. 2; 

Venus and Adonis, 28, 59 n. 1, 

61,84n. 2, 111, 112, 113, 119 ff., 

123 n. 4, 154. 
Sidney, sir Philip, 62, 154, 155 

n. 1. 
Skelton, John, 24. 
Speed, John, 44, 44 n. 5, 61. 
Spenser, Edmund, 4 n. 8; use of 

couplet, 20; 39 ff., 42, 45, 46, 

61 ff., 63, 76 n., 78 n. 4, 154. 
Stapleton, Thomas, 44, 44 n. 7. 
Stowe, John, 43, 61. 
Suckliffe, Matthew, 44, 44 n. 8. 
Surrey, Henry Howard, earl of, 62. 

Theater, reference to the, 63 ff., 

129, 153. 
Thorndike, A. H., 121 n. 1. 
Toulmin-Smith, Lucy, 1 n. 2, 

5 n. 2, 61 n. 1; references to 

manuscript, 68 ff., 109 n. 1; 

reasons why not assigned to 

Marston, 110 ff., 149. 
Tourneur, Cyril, 29, 105, 149. 

Vere, sir Francis, 54, 73, 83, 136, 
156. 

Waldron, F. G., 3 n. 1, 34 n. 4; 
connection with the manuscript, 
65, 66, 108, 109, 110, 111 n. 4. 

Warton, Thomas, 20 n. 1, 121, 132 
n. 1. 

Webster, John, 113. 

Woodberry, George, 20 n. 4. 

Wright, WiUiam, 41 n. 7. 



VITA 

John Henry Hob art Lyon was born March 29, 1878, in 
Springfield, New Jersey. He entered Columbia College in 
1893, after preparation in public and private schools. He 
received from Columbia University the degree of A.B. in 
1897, and A.M. in 1898. When he finished his undergraduate 
work he was awarded Final Honors in EngUsh. He studied 
for the doctorate both at the University of Chicago and at 
Columbia University. 

After teaching for several years in preparatory schools he 
became Head Master in 1905 of Shattuck School, Faribault, 
Minnesota, an endowed school of the Protestant Episcopal 
Church. In 1913 Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut, 
conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Letters. In 
the fall of the same year he became Professor of Enghsh at 
the University of Washington, Seattle, Washington. In 
1917 he was made an Instructor in English and in 1919 an 
Assistant Professor of Enghsh at Columbia University. He 
was also appointed in 1919 an Assistant to the Director of 
Extension Teaching, and was placed in charge of the colle- 
giate course given by Columbia University in Brooklyn at 
the Long Island College Hospital. 



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